n  Spacious 

J     jr-^p^ 

limes 


Justin 
Htintly 

McCarthy 


IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

THE 

GLORIOUS   RASCAL 

A  New  "If  I  Were  King"  Romance 
Large  ismo.        Cloth.        $1.30  net 


FOOL  OF  APRIL 

A  Modern  Story  of  Whims 
and  Humors 

Large  ismo.        Cloth.        $1-35  net 

JOHN     LANE     COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


IN 
SPACIOUS  TIMES 


BY 

JUSTIN  HUNTLY  McCARTHY 

Author  of 

"The  Glorious  Rascal,"  "If  I  Were  King," 
"Fool  of  April,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

JOHN   LANE  COMPANY 

MCMXVI 


Copyright,  1916, 
BY  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Company 
New  York,  U.  S.  A 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    THE  WEST  COUNTRY 9 

II.    THE  QUEEN'S  LADIES 18 

III.  PHILEMON 27 

IV.  MY  LORD  OF  GODALMING 35 

V.    WORLDLY  WISDOM 45 

VI.    PAINTED  FULL  OF  TONGUES 51 

VII.  SIR  BATTY  HEARS  NEWS  ...:....  55 

VIII.  LOVERS'  MEETINGS 59 

IX.  IN  THE  HALL  OF  THE  NYMPHS 69 

X.  AT  KING'S  WELCOME 75 

XI.  GONE — AND  LEFT  No  SIGN 80 

XII.  A  TRIP  INTO  THE  COUNTRY 87 

XIII.  A  COACH  AND  FOUR 90 

XIV.  LOVE  IN  A  WOOD 94 

XV.    A  GODDESS  OUT  OF  A  MACHINE 108 

XVI.    WILL  SHE  NOT  COME  AGAIN? 115 

XVII.    A  VISITOR  TO  KING'S  WELCOME 123 

XVIII.    A  VISITOR  TO  "THE  GOLDEN  HART" 134 

XIX.    IN  ARCADIA 143 

XX.    A  SHEPHERD  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF 152 

XXI.    HERCULES  TELLS  A  TALE 163 

XXII.    AN  APOLOGY  FOR  POETRY 170 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII.  WAGER  OF  BATTLE 176 

XXIV.  ExrrOMpHALE 187 

XXV.    MOUNT  DRAGON 194 

XXVI.    DEBORAH  PENFEATHER 205 

XXVII.    A  PARLEY 211 

XXVIII.    ALARMS  AND  EXCURSIONS 220 

XXIX.    WITHOUT  HUE  OR  CRY 230 

XXX.    SECOND  THOUGHTS 237 

XXXI.    WINGS 244 

XXXII.    THE  FLIGHT  OF  AN  ARROW 248 

XXXIII.  A  COURTLY  COMEDY 254 

XXXIV.  PHILEMON  INTERVENES 258 

XXXV.    MINE  ENEMY  AT  THE  GATE 266 

XXXVI.    AN  UNEXPECTED  FRIEND 277 

XXXVII.  PHILEMON  MEETS  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE    ....  285 

XXXVIII.    NEWS  FOR  MY  LORD 291 

XXXIX.    AN  OVERLOOKER 299 

XL.    IN  THE  TOILS 303 

XLI.    A  COURT  OF  JUSTICE 310 

XLII.    THE  SECRET  WAY 323 

XLIII.    THE  SENTENCE 327 

XLIV.    SOVEREIGN 334 


IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  WEST   COUNTRY 

WHEN  Elizabeth  of  England  was  an  old  queen  a  man 
came  into  the  West  Country  by  the  best  way, 
which  is  the  way  of  the  sea.  His  name  was  Hercules  Flood 
and  he  came  in  a  ship  of  his  own  whose  name  was  The 
Golden  Hart.  Her  timbers  had  strained  in  the  storms  of 
a  hundred  waters  and  stood  the  strain  to  the  honour  of 
oak  of  England.  In  a  sense  it  might  be  said  of  this  ship, 
as  of  the  vessel  in  the  nursery  rhyme,  that  its  sails  were 
made  of  satin  and  that  its  masts  were  made  of  gold,  for 
though  in  all  sobriety  of  fact  the  sails  were  so  many  squares 
of  patched  and  weather-tumbled  cloth  and  the  mast  no 
other  than  translations  of  trees,  they  were  of  as  much  value 
to  their  master  as  if  they  had  indeed  been  fashioned  of 
the  more  magnificent  materials.  For  it  was  thanks  to  them 
and  their  sturdiness  and  their  holding  together  and  rebuffing 
the  winds  and  waves  that  a  very  considerable  quantity  of 
the  precious  metals  and  other  commodities  even  more  pre- 
cious garnered  in  the  hot  of  the  tropics  and  the  cold  of  the 
north  were  being  cargoed  into  the  West  Country  as  the 
property  of  the  owner  of  the  ship. 

Hard  by  the  bow  of  the  vessel  two  men  leaned  side  by 
side  upon  the  bulwarks  and  gazed  at  the  nearing  land.  He 
that  was  closer  to  the  shore  was  Master  Hercules  Flood, 
a  tall  fellow,  comfortably  over  six  feet,  although  a  careless 
observer  might  have  guessed  him  at  less  because  of  the 
bigness  of  his  body.  He  was,  indeed,  largely  made,  but 
nature  had  so  compactly  handled  him,  had  adjusted  all  parts 
of  him  with  so  admirable  a  symmetry,  binding  bone  and 
9 


io  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

flesh  and  muscle  and  sinew  together  with  so  firm  a  touch, 
that  he  carried  his  bulk  with  the  ease  and  grace  of  the 
slenderest,  and  rendered  to  the  spectator  no  full  account  of 
the  strength  that  was  stored  in  his  frame.  For  his  years 
he  was,  as  far  as  he  himself  could  tell  it,  but  newly  turned 
of  thirty.  He  had  candid  blue-grey  eyes  with  that  sea-look 
in  them  which  almost  always  distinguishes  the  mariner  from 
the  landsman.  His  crisp  hair  and  beard  gave  a  russet-col- 
oured frame  to  a  face  which,  like  the  rest  of  the  man,  did 
not  at  once  declare  all  that  it  signified. 

He  had  crammed  so  much  of  the  pith  of  existence  into 
the  formal  numeration  of  his  calendar;  he  had  voyaged 
so  much  and  warred  so  much;  had  wrestled  with  the  ele- 
ments so  much  and  run  down  and  up  so  many  rungs  of 
the  ladder  of  fortune  that  the  multitude  of  his  experiences 
had  marked  themselves  upon  his  face.  It  was  as  if  the 
incessant  pounding  and  battering  of  the  fists  of  adventure 
upon  his  countenance  had  bruised  it  into  a  kind  of  odd 
smoothness,  like  the  visage  of  a  figure-head  that  stares  at 
spray  or  sun  with  the  same  composure.  Any  one  would 
take  the  man  at  the  first  glance  for  a  sailor,  just  one  sailor 
with  another,  one  unit  of  the  hundreds  of  English  sailors 
that  used  the  sea  and  were  heroes  and  pirates  unawares, 
as  it  were.  It  would  need  a  second  glance,  or  perhaps  a 
third,  and  each  a  keen  one,  to  discern  that  the  man  shielded 
no  workaday  character  with  that  seeming  calmness  and 
uniformity  of  cheeks  and  chin  and  forehead. 

His  companion  made  him  a  curious  contrast  and  foil,  for 
he  was  short  even  to  squatness,  yet  was  so  largely  shaped 
as  to  seem  almost  as  broad  as  he  was  long.  He  was  plainly 
a  Celt  and  his  Welsh  blood  showed  itself  in  his  darkness 
of  favour.  Ink-black  hair  and  beard  emphasised  the 
swarthiness  of  his  skin  and  the  angry  darkness  of  his  eyes. 
His  great  neck  and  throat,  tanned  to  the  blackness  of  a 
jack,  seemed  as  massive  as  a  bull's  and  flagrantly  proclaimed 
the  force  and  vigour  of  their  owner,  a  force  and  vigour 
again  asserted  by  the  huge  hands,  as  hairy  as  a  bear's  paws, 
which  now  rested  on  the  rail  and  held  his  elbows.  Even  a 
shrewd  judge  of  humanity,  surveying  the  two  men,  would 
have  declared  that  this  dusky  fellow  was  the  mightier  man 
of  the  pair.  Yet  such  a  shrewd  observer  would  have  erred. 


THE  WEST  COUNTRY  11 

"You  seem,"  said  the  small  man  to  the  large  man,  "glad 
to  be  coming  into  port." 

He  spoke  with  a  certain  vexation  in  his  voice,  as  if  it  irri- 
tated him  in  his  attitude  towards  the  world  to  find  any  one 
pleased  at  anything. 

"I  am  glad  to  be  coming  home,"  said  Hercules  simply. 
"I  am  glad  to  be  coming  to  the  West  Country." 

"The  West  Country,"  echoed  the  small  man  with  a  dis- 
dainful snort,  which  seemed  to  suggest  that  one  country 
was  much  the  same  as  another  when  you  came  to  think  of  it. 

"Aye,  the  West  Country,  Griffith,"  repeated  Hercules 
tenderly.  "I  have  loved  the  West  Country  ever  since  I 
can  remember.  I  loved  her  when  I  was  poor  and  I  love  her 
now  when  I  am,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  rich." 

"In  a  manner  of  speaking,"  said  the  small  man  captiously. 
"You  know  very  well  that  you  have  made  your  fortune." 

"I  have  made  my  fortune  and  lost  my  fortune  once  and 
again  before  this,"  said  Flood.  "But  this  time  I  am  going 
to  satisfy  my  heart's  desire." 

"I  didn't  know  that  you  had  a  heart's  desire  beyond  sea- 
faring," said  Griffith. 

"It  has  lain  snug  in  my  heart  for  many  a  long  day,"  said 
Hercules,  "to  build  me  a  house  in  the  West  Country." 

"There  is  no  house  like  a  ship,"  said  the  small  man,  with 
an  air  of  dogged  pugnacity. 

There  was  a  twinkle  in  the  big  man's  eyes.  "I'll  not  say 
that  you  are  wrong  there,"  he  admitted,  and  laughed  as  he 
made  the  admission.  "But  we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see." 

"It  will  take  some  time  to  build  you  a  house,"  said  Griffith. 

"I  expect  it  is  built  already,"  answered  the  other  gaily. 
"It  is  much  more  than  a  year  ago  since  I  wrote  from  Porto 
Rico  to  one  that  I  can  trust  in  Plymouth,  telling  him  my 
mind  as  to  the  kind  of  house  I  wanted  building  and  bidding 
him  set  about  the  business  at  once.  So  I  should  not  be  sur- 
prised to  find  a  roof  ready  for  my  head  as  soon  as  I  set  feet 
on  dry  land  again." 

"You  are  a  provident  fellow,"  said  the  little  man,  looking 
up  at  him  with  a  blink  of  admiration.  "And  yet  a  reckless, 
for  it  is  an  unchancy  matter  to  set  a  house  a-building  when 
you  are  using  the  great  seas." 

"I  have  taken  more  chances  than  one,"  replied  the  other 


12  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

with  a  laugh.  "I  tell  you  I  have  made  all  snug  for  my 
home-coming,  as  you  shall  learn  very  speedily.  The  making 
of  money  is  a  poor  trade  in  itself,  but  it  is  a  bonny  business 
when  it  enables  him  that  makes  it  to  live  like  a  king  in 
Devon." 

The  Welshman  looked  at  him  in  some  perplexity  and  ran 
a  dusky  hand  through  his  tangle  of  black  hair. 

"What  makes  you  so  mortal  fond  of  Devon?"  he  asked, 
in  a  querulous  voice. 

The  big  man  pointed  to  the  scene  before  him. 

"There  is  your  answer.  Doesn't  your  heart  drum  with 
delight  at  the  beauty  of  it?  Was  ever  sea  or  sky  so  blue, 
were  ever  hills  so  green  and  gay?  Was  there  ever  a  town 
like  yonder  town?  I  could  kiss  my  hand  to  every  chimney 
that  whisks  its  feather  of  smoke  in  the  air." 

"You  talk  like  a  poet,"  said  the  small  man  in  decided  con- 
demnation. The  other  drew  a  long  breath  of  satisfaction. 

"Taste  me  that  clean  air,"  he  commanded.  "It  smacks 
deliciously  of  the  salt  of  the  seas  and  the  clover  of  the  fields 
and  the  roses  blowing  about  a  porch.  Also  it  smacks  of 
West  Country  cream  and  West  Country  beef  and  West 
Country  beer.  Oh,  Jbut  I  am  blithe  to  be  so  nigh  to  port." 

The  small  man  looked  up  into  his  beaming  face  with  a 
quizzical  expression  compounded  of  amazement  and  amuse- 
ment. They  were  so  near  by  this  time  that  they  could  see 
the  white  bulkheads  on  the  quays,  and  the  coils  of  rope, 
and  the  sailors  swaying  up  and  down  smoking  their  pipes, 
and  the  townspeople  going  about  their  business  and  the  dogs 
of  the  town  going  about  theirs,  which  was,  as  it  seemed, 
to  smell  as  many  smells  and  to  chase  or  be  chased  by  as 
many  other  dogs  as  possible. 

"I  wonder  if  you  will  like  home-biding  as  well  as  you 
expect,"  the  smaller  man  reflected. 

"Who  knows?"  responded  the  other,  "I  do  not  dream 
dreams  in  day-time  or  pamper  my  fancy  with  false  pictures. 
If  I  remember  the  pleasures  and  the  merits  of  the  West 
Country  I  remember  them  frankly  as  they  were  and  not  as 
affection  might  have  them  be." 

"Well,"  commented  Griffith,  "you  are  well  built  for  the 
pleasures  of  life,  I  will  say  that  for  you." 

"I   have,   I  thank  Heaven,"  the  big  man  admitted,   "a 


THE  WEST  COUNTRY  13 

sound  stomach,  a  sharp  appetite  and  a  hard  head.  I  like 
my  meals  without  greed,  I  hope,  and  enjoy  them  without 
gluttony  as  a  West  Countryman  should." 

"You  and  your  West  Country,"  said  the  smaller  man, 
with  a  decided  sniff. 

"I  have  tasted  the  fare  of  many  nations,"  retorted  the 
big  man,  "and  I  always  maintain  that  English  fare,  taking 
it  by  and  large,  is  the  finest  eating  an  honest  man  could 
desire,  and  that  out  of  such  variety  of  feeding  as  English 
fare  can  offer  the  West  Country  spreads  the  finest  table." 

"There  is  nothing  like  making  the  best  of  things,"  said 
the  other. 

"That  is  a  very  true  saying,"  returned  the  big  man,  "and 
would  be  truer  still  if  I  had  the  misfortune  to  be  born  a 
Welshman." 

The  little  man  glowered  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  gave 
an  angry  cough.  Then  he  laughed  good-humouredly. 

"Were  you  born  in  Plymouth  ?"  he  questioned. 

"I  believe  so,"  answered  the  other.  "At  least  I  know  that 
Plymouth  is  the  earliest  thing  I  can  remember.  It  seems  a 
long  time  ago  since  I  first  learned  the  name  of  the  place 
where  I  lived.  But  every  time  I  return  to  Plymouth  I  unroll 
the  map  of  my  boyhood  and  have  a  look  at  it.  I  dwelt  in 
a  little  cottage  overlooking  the  sea "  He  broke  off  sud- 
denly with  a  laugh.  "But  there,  why  should  I  weary  you 
with  my  memories/' 

"In  all  the  time  that  we  have  been  together,"  said  Griffith, 
"you  have  told  me  nothing  or  little  about  yourself.  I  am  no 
more  inquisitive  than  another,  but  I  should  like  to  know 
what  went  to  the  making  of  you  if  you  have  a  mind  to  tell 
the  tale." 

"Good  Lord,"  said  Hercules,  "my  childhood  was  neither 
strange  nor  secret.  Such  as  it  was  it  is  quite  at  your  service. 
I  lived  with  a  woman  who  was  not  my  mother,  for  she  was 
unwedded  and  a  maid,  and  she  kept  house  for  her  brother 
who  was  unwedded  and  a  bachelor.  Yet  I  was  named  by 
their  name,  so  I  must  have  been  of  their  kin,  and  I  know 
that  I  always  took  them  to  be  my  uncle  and  my  aunt  and  I 
always  called  them  so." 

"Were  you  fond  of  them?"  asked  the  small  man.  The  big 
man  nodded. 


14  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"They  were  very  kind  to  me,  especially  the  woman.  The 
man  had  a  ship  of  his  own  and  long  ventures  took  him  much 
from  home.  He  always  seemed  very  wonderful  to  me,  with 
his  fur  cap  and  his  red  face  and  the  thick  gold  rings  in  his 
ears.  But  he  seemed  most  wonderful  on  the  day  when  he 
clapped  a  hand  upon  my  shoulder  and  asked  me  how  I 
would  like  to  go  for  a  sailor." 

"That  was  an  easy  question  to  answer,  no  doubt,"  the 
Welshman  commented. 

"Very  surely.  The  salt  of  the  water  was  ever  on  my  lips, 
and  my  heart  drummed  to  follow  the  sea." 

He  was  silent  again,  scanning  the  growing  town  under 
a  lifted  hand,  for  the  sunlight  was  strong.  He  seemed  to 
think  that  he  had  said  all  that  there  was  need  to  say.  But 
his  companion  was  not  of  his  mind. 

"Well,"  he  pressed,  "and  what  were  your  fortunes  when 
you  followed  the  sea?" 

The  other  gave  a  light  laugh,  as  of  one  that  was  suddenly 
recalled  to  facts  from  day-dreams. 

"The  usual  fortunes  of  a  sailor-man.  Wide  waters  and 
strange  lands  where  life  seemed  more  brightly  coloured 
than  at  home.  Lord,  but  it  was  a  good  life,  and  a  whole- 
some. I  was  always  strong,  which  was  why  they  gave  me 
my  outlandish  name  I  take  it,  and  the  sea  made  me  stronger 
and  stronger." 

"You  are  a  strong  man,"  the  other  agreed,  with  some- 
thing like  a  frown  puckering  his  swarthy  forehead.  Only 
for  a  moment,  however;  then  it  vanished  again  as  he 
went  on.  "That  is  why  you  and  I  are  friends.  I  always 
vowed  that  if  ever  I  could  find  a  stronger  man  than  my- 
self I  would  share  my  life  with  him.  But  I  never  did 
until  I  encountered  you  at  Valparaiso  and  you  overcame 
me." 

Hercules  laughed. 

"You  are  a  grand  man,  Griffith,  and  I  am  proud  to  have 
you  for  a  friend,  prouder  than  of  any  friendship  I  ever 
made,  save  one  only." 

"And  what  might  that  be?"  Griffith  questioned,  a  little 
jealously. 

"My  friendship  with  Francis  Drake,"  Hercules  answered 
with  a  great  pride  in  his  voice.  "Simple  as  I  stand  here  I 


THE  WEST  COUNTRY  15 

helped  him  to  singe  the  King  of  Spain's  beard  and  I  served 
under  him  when  he  shattered  the  Armada." 

"You  have  lived  a  fine  life,"  said  the  smaller  man  medita- 
tively. "You  have  tasted  adventure." 

"I  have  eaten  large  and  drunk  deep  of  adventure,"  re- 
plied the  big  man.  "I  hope  I  have  not  had  my  last  bite  and 
sup  of  it." 

"Why  should  that  be,  in  Heaven's  name  ?"  asked  the  other 
in  some  surprise.  Flood  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"The  world  is  growing  quieter,"  he  said.  "More's  the 
pity.  And  here  am  I  that  have  it  in  my  mind  to  settle  down 
and  take  my  ease.  I  trust  I  shall  not  become  lumpish  ancf 
lethargic  with  eating  well  and  drinking  smooth  and  sleeping 
soft.  But  I  fear  I  have  come  to  the  tether  of  my  adven- 
tures." 

"No  man  can  be  sure  of  that,"  said  Griffith  thoughtfully. 
"Maybe  you  will  find  adventure  lives  on  land  as  well  as  on 
sea.  And  it  may  come  into  your  mind  to  marry.  Man, 
there  will  be  an  adventure  for  you." 

"One  that  I  have  little  mind  for  at  this  present,"  said 
Hercules.  "I  am  no  amorist,  lad.  Ever  since  I  used  the 
sea  I  have  been  too  busy  to  think  love-thoughts.  I  have 
known  men  profess  passion  for  this  nymph  or  that  nymph, 
and  spout  verses  sweet  and  curious  and  cloying  on  the 
theme.  But  I  am  not  of  their  mind." 

The  other  looked  at  him  sharply  from  under  his  black 
shaggy  eyebrows. 

"Have  you  never  loved  a  lass  in  all  your  days  ?"  he  asked 
with  surprise  in  his  voice. 

"As  to  that,"  the  other  replied  composedly,  "I  had  a 
touch  of  calf-love  when  I  was  a  lad,  and  I  have  kissed  a 
wench  here  and  there  in  foreign  parts  for  diversion,  being 
a  human  creature  and  curious.  But  it  sticks  in  my  mind  that 
my  amorous  friends  and  their  poets  are  pleased  to  make  a 
great  deal  out  of  a  very  little,  much  as  if  a  fellow  at  the 
end  of  a  pleasant  feast  should  carry  himself  as  if  he  had 
helped  to  bring  Heaven  and  Earth  together/' 

"There  you  talk  very  sensible,"  said  Griffith  daffingly. 
"Take  care  that  you  do  not  see  some  lass  on  shore  that  will 
make  you  sing  to  another  tune,  aye,  and  dance  too,  for  that 
matter." 


16  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Hercules  surveyed  his  swarthy  companion  with  a  smile 
and  shook  his  head. 

"Have  no  fear  of  that,  man,"  he  assured.  "My  time  is 
past  for  sudden  fancies.  When  a  man  overtops  the  age 
of  thirty  he  realises  that  one  woman  is  much  like  another." 

The  Welshman  hunched  his  huge  shoulders. 

"Aye,  aye,"  he  grunted,  "it  is  well  to  view  women  with 
indifference." 

"With  indifference,  if  you  will,"  said  Hercules,  "but  an 
indifference  that  has  no  stain  of  disdain  on  it.  WKo  could 
dare  to  disdain  women  who  has  been  taught  from  his  boy- 
hood that  a  woman  named  Elizabeth  was  the  greatest  she 
in  existence  and  that  the  pride  of  dying  for  her  was  only 
to  be  rivalled  by  the  pride  of  living  for  her." 

.  "It  is  the  law  of  an  Englishman's  life,"  said  the  Welsh- 
man, "that  his  first  duty  after  his  duty  to  God  is  to  love 
Elizabeth  and  his  second  duty  is  to  hate  the  Spaniard." 

"And  a  very  good  law,  too,"  applauded  the  other  heartily. 
There  was  a  short  silence ;  then  Griffith  spoke  again. 

"Have  you  ever  seen  the  Queen?"  he  questioned. 

The  other  answered  very  gravely. 

"Oh,  aye,  I  have  seen  her.  After  the  Armada,  Captain 
Drake  took  me  with  a  bunch  of  his  sailor-men  to  Court, 
to  be  thanked  by  the  great  Queen  whose  dominion  he  had 
helped  to  save." 

He  said  no  more,  but  his  companion  expected  more  and 
sought  for  it. 

"Was  she  goodly  to  look  upon  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  was  a  raw  young  man,"  said  the  big  man,  "humming 
with  victory.  I  came  prepared  for  enchantment  and  I  was 
not  enchanted.  It  is  perhaps  a  misfortune  for  me  that  I 
always  see  things  as  they  are,  and  queens  make  no  excep- 
tions." 

"What  was  she  like?"  Griffith  persisted. 

"Why,"  said  the  other,  "from  the  way  folk  talked  and 
rhymed  of  her,  I  had  grown  to  expect  a  divinity,  and  it 
came  as  a  shock  to  find  a  faded  ancient  painted  woman,  who 
minced  and  giggled  like  a  ninny  though  her  face  was  lined 
like  a  map." 

"What  then,"  asked  Griffith,  "is  all  this  talk  of  great  lords 
that  perish  for  love  of  her?" 


THE  WEST  COUNTRY  17 

"Heaven  forgive  them,"  said  the  other,  "they  do  but  make 
fools  of  themselves  and  of  her.  Love  is  a  silly  business  at 
the  best,  but  such  false  antic  folly  makes  me  sick." 

Griffith  grunted  agreement.  There  was  a  patch  of  silence. 
Then  the  Welshman  again  questioned  Hercules. 

"Are  those  folk  of  yours  still  living?" 

Hercules  shook  his  head. 

"My  uncle  fell  by  an  Indian  arrow  at  Nombre  de  Dios, 
and  as  for  my  aunt  I  never  saw  her  again  after  my  earliest 
voyages  for  she  went  away  inland  to  live  with  some  kinsfolk, 
it  being  lonely  for  her  then  in  Plymouth,  and  as  I  have  not 
heard  from  her  for  this  many  a  long  year,  I  suppose  that 
she  is  no  more.  But  here  we  are  coming  to  anchor  and 
there  is  the  pinnace.  When  all  is  trim  on  the  ship  come 
ashore  in  your  turn.  You  will  find  me  at  the  'Dolphin.'  " 

"Whereabouts  is  the  'Dolphin'?"  asked  the  other.  The 
big  man  extended  an  indicating  hand. 

"It  lies  yonder,  to  the  left  of  those  tall  houses.  If  you 
follow  the  Hoe  you  will  fall  over  it,  but  any  seaman  or 
landsman  either  will  tell  you  the  way.  It  is  a  good  inn,  I 
promise  you." 

He  was  over  the  side  as  he  finished  speaking  and  dropped 
into  the  pinnace  where  a  sailor  awaited  him  with  a  pair  of 
oars.  He  waved  his  hand  to  the  black  man  above  him,  and 
the  little  boat  darted  across  the  smooth  water. 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  QUEEN'S  LADIES 

THE  Queen  was  occupied  very  much  as  her  sister  sov- 
ereign is  occupied  in  the  old  song.  She  was  "sitting 
in  her  parlour" ;  that  is  she  was  in  her  own  private  cham- 
ber in  her  palace  of  St.  James.  She  was  in  the  company 
of  certain  of  her  maids  of  honour,  and  though  she  was 
not  exactly  "eating  bread  and  honey,"  she  was  doing  very 
much  the  same  thing.  She  and  her  maids,  having  made 
their  midday  meal,  were  regaling  themselves  with  a  treat 
in  the  tasting  of  a  certain  preserve  of  guava  which  had 
been  metaphorically  laid  at  the  Queen's  feet  by  one  of  her 
sea-captains  on  his  return  from  the  Indies;  and  was  now 
being  practically  lifted  to  the  Queen's  lips  on  its  way  to 
the  Queen's  interior.  If  the  great  Queen  ever  admitted 
herself  to  have  any  weakness,  it  was  a  weakness  for  sweet- 
meats, and  this  new  conserve  flattered  her  palate.  As  she 
rolled  a  spoonful  on  her  tongue  she  rolled  her  hot  brown 
eyes  in  an  ecstasy  of  satisfaction. 

When  the  morsel,  dwindling,  slipped  in  sweetness  to  the 
depths,  her  Majesty,  turning  to  her  ring  of  observant  and 
expectant  companions  with  a  contortion  of  countenance 
that  clearly  resembled  a  wink,  gave  them  permission  to 
follow  her  example  and  fall  to.  Instantly  four  pretty  ladies 
plunged  four  pretty  silver  spoons  into  the  red  substance 
and  conveyed  four  portions  of  sticky  deliciousness  to  their 
pretty  lips. 

The  captain-jewel  of  that  ring  of  youthful  faces  was 
the  face  of  the  Queen,  the  face  which  was  not  youthful 
but  which  still  pretended  to  youth.  Her  Majesty  was  hab- 
ited with  an  extravagance  of  splendid  juvenility,  and  to  the 
magnificent  pyramid  of  pearled  and  jewelled  silk  the  apex 
was  the  ancient  face.  The  red  hair  was  still  a  flame,  for 
its  venerable  grey  was  hidden  under  false  locks  that  had 
18 


THE  QUEEN'S  LADIES  19 

even  more  than  its  former  colour.  The  cheeks  and  lips 
were  slobbered  with  a  bounty  of  white  and  red  which  only 
served  to  emphasize  the  roughness  and  yellowness  of  the 
skin  wherever  it  was  visible.  The  dark  eyes  that  had  out- 
watched  such  a  world  of  players  and  read  the  secrets  of 
such  a  quantity  of  hearts  were  bleared  and  jaundiced  now, 
though  they  could  still  stare  from  under  their  puffed  and 
puckered  eyelids  with  a  terrifying  malice  and  acumen. 
Though  she  seemed  as  if  she  might  at  any  moment  fall 
into  a  ruin  of  decay  she  still  aped  the  graces  and  aired  the 
affectations  of  a  girl;  she  simpered  and  grinned  and  grim- 
aced and  allowed  herself  to  liberate  great  volleys  of 
crackling  laughter  on  the  least  provocation,  after  a  fashion 
that  froze  the  blood  of  her  companions.  There  was  not  a 
human  being  at  Court  who  did  not  shiver  inwardly  at  the 
grisly  effigy  that  was  once  a  great  Queen:  not  a  human 
being,  except  the  great  Queen,  who  did  not  regard  it  as 
the  most  awesome  comment  on  the  eternal  vanity  of 
vanities. 

It  was  said  of  the  Queen  that  she  drew  vitality  from 
the  beings  of  the  girls  she  gathered  about  her;  that  in 
some  super-physical  manner  she  sucked  the  juices  of  their 
youth  and  their  good-humour  and  their  high  spirits  and 
transfused  some  measure  of  these  elements  of  health  and 
strength  into  her  chilling  blood  and  waning  tissues. 

It  was  said  of  the  girls  who  were  chosen  to  be  the  Queen's 
companions — and  they  were  chosen  and  changed  very  fre- 
quently— that  they  were  consciously  or  unconsciously  aware 
of  the  draining  influence  that  the  society  of  their  royal 
mistress  implied.  It  was  certain  that  while  the  Queen 
always  gained  and  brightened  after  those  hours  spent  with 
her  women,  the  women  came  from  them  fagged  and  weary, 
with  flagging  pulses,  heavy  heads  and  an  aching  sense  of 
exhaustion.  Yet  if  the  Queen  had  been  scientifically  con- 
scious of  the  vigour  she  drew  from  the  fellowship  of  her 
women,  and  had  plainly  told  them  of  what  they  gave  and 
what  she  took,  they  would  have  made  their  sacrifice  cheer- 
fully. For  was  she  not  the  great  Queen? 

The  Great  Queen ! 

The  Lady  of  the  long  reign  that  had  held  so  much  glory 
.and  not  a  little  shame;  the  woman  who  had  been  so  bold 


20  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

and  so  cunning,  so  noble  and  so  cruel,  so  wise  and  so  un- 
wise, so  dignified  and  so  ridiculous;  the  Queen  who  had 
fooled  princes  and  defied  kings,  who  had  measured  the 
strength  of  her  little  island  against  the  Empire  that  had 
aimed  at  world  dominion  and  had  broken  that  Empire's 
strength;  the  Queen  who  had  killed  a  sister  sovereign; 
who  had  used  the  greatest  and  the  wisest  of  her  people 
as  the  tools  of  her  unscrupulousness,  but  who  had,  above 
all  and  before  all,  helped  to  make  England  a  great  power 
in  the  world.  If  her  tortuous  mind  could  spin  intrigue  as 
nimbly  as  any  super-subtle  Italian  there  was  a  straight 
streak  in  it  which  enabled  her  to  choose  great  men  and 
to  use  them  greatly  for  the  greatness  of  the  State.  Truly 
this  weird  old  woman  had  a  strange  and  splendid  store  of 
memories  to  feed  upon  when  she  asked  for  such  food. 

But  it  was  believed  that  she  concerned  herself  very 
little  with  things  done;  that  it  was  ever  with  the  present 
that  her  thoughts  were  busy — the  present  that  was  gliding 
and  sliding  with  such  remorseless  swiftness  into  the  past 
and  taking  with  it  in  every  hour  some  of  that  beauty 
which  she  still  believed  she  carried,  and  of  that  youth 
which  she  still  professed  perennial. 

Who  were  the  four  fair  ladies  that  kept  the  great  Queen 
company?  They  were  for  the  moment  the  Queen's  most 
intimate  friends,  the  little  knot  of  ladies  that  were  known 
in  the  vocabulary  of  the  Court  as  "the  Queen's  sisters." 
It  being  one  of  her  Majesty's  chiefest  whims  to  affect  an 
eternal  juvenility  it  pleased  her  always  to  select  from  among 
her  maids  of  honour  the  youngest  and  the  prettiest  and 
the  wittiest,  and  to  make  of  them  a  kind  of  private  society. 
With  them  it  was  her  pleasure  to  spend  a  private  hour  every 
day,  when  it  was  clearly  understood  that  they  were  all  girls 
together,  and  were  to  chatter  unrestrainedly  to  one  another 
to  their  hearts'  content  of  clothes  and  lovers  and  nonsense 
as  youth  and  giddiness  will. 

And  of  all  the  little  company  who  was  younger  and  who 
was  giddier  than  the  Queen  herself  ?  Who  so  artless,  who 
so  jolly,  who  so  petting,  appealing,  spoiled  and  spoiling 
as  she?  But  these  play-times  were  a  tedious  and  a  fearful 
joy  to  her  companions  who  felt  like  so  many  lambs  with  a 
tiger-cat 


THE  QUEEN'S  LADIES  at 

"Tell  me,  sisterkins,"  said  the  Queen,  clapping  her  thin 
hands  together  so  that  the  rings  with  which  they  were 
encrusted  rattled  and  clattered,  "what  shall  we  play  at  now  ? 
Shall  it  be  cards  or  dominoes,  chess  or  chequers?  Oh,  we 
have  played  all  these  to  extinction.  Why,  in  the  name  of 
God,  can  no  fool  be  found  sane  enough  to  invent  a  new 
game  that  is  worth  the  playing?" 

As  she  spoke  her  fierce  eyes  seemed  to  film  over,  shutting 
her  in  a  reverie  apart  from  her  surroundings  and  the  moving 
world.  In  God's  name  she  had  played  many  and  many  a 
game,  and  the  tragedy  of  her  life  of  hazard  was  that  there 
seemed  no  new  game  to  play,  or  time  to  play  it  if  such' 
game  there  were.  Suddenly  her  eyes  unfilmed  again  and 
gazed  upon  the  group  of  her  women  with  unwinking 
brightness. 

"Come,  Margaret  Bellingham,"  she  commanded,  "what 
have  you  to  say  for  yourself  in  this  difficulty?  I  wish 
to  amuse  you,  sisterkins,  but  it  is  for  you  to  decide  how 
you  wish  to  be  amused." 

Margaret  Bellingham  mooned  at  the  Queen  in  her  red 
and  white  comeliness  and  suggested  forfeits  in  a  fat  voice. 
Peggy  Bellingham  was  always  a  stupid  girl.  The  Queen 
snapped  at  her. 

"By  God,  Peg,"  she  growled,  "you  have  as  many  ideas 
as  a  broody  hen.  What  can  you  propose,  Jennifer?" 

This  was  to  Jennifer  Chisholm,  a  crisp  brown  little 
woman  with  a  Frenchified  face  and  a  voice  and  manner 
that  lacked  the  English  calm.  She  was  born  of  a  French 
mother,  which  accounted  for  much  if  it  did  not  explain 
everything. 

"Indeed,  your  Majesty,"  said  Jennifer,  grinning  all  over 
her  dark  face,  "I  think  we  should  do  well  to  fetch  in  some 
of  the  gentlemen  of  the  Court  and  make  cock-shies  of  them. 
They  are  wooden  enough  for  the  sport." 

The  red  eyebrows  of  the  Queen  elevated  themselves  into 
an  arch  of  disapproval. 

"Jennifer,  my  sister,"  she  said,  "we  have,  I  hope,  no 
need  of  men  to  entertain  us  in  these  happy  congresses  of 
ours.  Men  are  all  very  well  in  their  way,  and  Heaven 
forbid  that  my  father's  daughter  should  voice  a  word  or 
shape  a  thought  against  them,  but  I  like  to  believe  that 


22  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

when  a  bunch  of  young  women  huddle  together  they  can 
make  out  to  amuse  themselves  without  any  need  of  doublet 
and  hose." 

A  watchful  observer  might  have  gathered  from  the  coun- 
tenances of  the  young  women  that  they  were  in  no  great 
completeness  of  accord  with  their  revered  sovereign  in  this 
particular.  But  as  far  as  any  outward  manifestation  of 
their  emotions  went  it  implied  cordial  agreement. 

The  Queen  now  turned  to  the  third  of  her  temporary 
sisterhood,  turned  to  Barbara  Leigh.  The  Queen  had  a 
special  tenderness  for  Barbara  because  she  had  red  hair 
like  herself,  and  boasted  such  a  whiteness  of  skin  as  the 
Queen  was  once  able  to  boast.  But  beyond  this  complicity 
of  hair  and  complexion  there  was  little  in  common  between 
the  greatest  princess  of  the  earth  and  the  honest  girl  from 
Essex,  who  was  not  even  hot-tempered,  as  it  is  the  duty  of 
all  self-respecting  red-haired  people  to  be. 

"With  your  Majesty's  good  leave,"  she  said,  in  her  jolly, 
straightforward  way,  "if  it  were  ask  and  have  with  me,  I 
should  be  all  for  the  free  air  and  a  game  of  romps  in  the 
garden." 

Now  this  proposition  was  not  in  itself  displeasing  to  the 
Queen,  and  indeed  Barbara  Leigh  knew  that  it  would  not 
be,  for  her  Majesty,  in  spite  of  her  three-score  and  odd 
years,  still  regarded  herself  as  free  to  jump  and  skip  and  jig 
with  the  briskest.  But  just  at  that  moment  the  gaunt  old 
idol  was  not  of  a  mind  for  liveliness. 

"You  are  a  fool,  Babs,"  she  protested  with  a  shrill  petu- 
lance. "We  maids" — and  here  she  vouchsafed  a  gruesome 
simper — "should  not  always  be  of  a  skittish  disposition,  or 
yearning  to  cut  capers.  Here  are  we  all  housed  and  snug 
and  homeful,  as  sisterkins  should  be,  and  it  need  not  tax 
our  wit  too  gravely  to  find  wholesome  entertainment.  Come, 
Clarenda,  what  have  you  to  say  in  this  matter?" 

She  whom  the  Queen  now  addressed  was  the  fourth  and 
the  youngest  and  the  latest  arrival  at  Court  of  the  Queen's 
newest  group  of  sisterkins.  Also  she  was,  without  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation  of  question,  by  far  the  most  beautiful. 
Her  face  was  such  an  one  as  some  great  Italian  painter 
might  have  shown  if  he  could  have  forgotten  for  a  little 
that  he  was  Italian,  and  accepted  the  possibility  of  another 


THE  QUEEN'S  LADIES  23 

ideal.  For  if  the  girl's  face  had  the  Italian  symmetry  and 
balance  it  did  not  fly  the  characteristic  Italian  colours. 
Her  carnation  was  clearer  than  that  of  the  children  of  the 
South ;  her  eyes  displayed  a  brighter  blue.  Her  hair  was 
dark  indeed,  but  it  was  not  of  your  changeless  sable;  it 
was  of  a  warm  darkness  that  had  hints  of  red  in  it  and 
glints  of  gold,  so  that  now  you  swore  it  was  ebony  and  now 
you  swore  it  was  chestnut. 

Clarenda  Constant  was  poor,  though  from  the  point  of 
view  of  a  herald  she  had  the  best  blood  of  the  four  girls. 
Unquestionably  she  was  the  most  beautiful;  there  were 
those  who  asserted  that  not  less  questionably  she  was  the 
most  foolish. 

It  could  scarcely  be  denied  that  her  nature  had  not 
gained  by  the  Queen's  favour.  Edged  into  the  Court  with 
great  difficulty  and  much  paring  of  the  family  cheese,  she 
took  the  fancy  of  the  Queen  at  her  first  appearance  and 
was  admitted  into  the  latest  sisterhood,  to  the  abiding  envy 
of  such  ladies  as  were  shed  from  that  charmed  company. 
She  was  adored  to  a  point  by  all  the  men,  but  not,  unhappily, 
to  the  point  of  marriage.  She  was  landless,  she  was  dower- 
less,  and  in  the  world  of  self-seekers,  adventurers  and 
climbers  which  was  called  the  Court,  honest  poverty,  how- 
ever handsome,  did  not  seem  to  make  the  desirable  wife, 
however  desirable  it  might  very  well  be  in  some  other 
capacity.  But  so  long  as  Clarenda  Constant  was  pampered 
and  flattered  and  praised,  and  had  men  around  her  pro- 
fessing themselves  her  slaves,  she  was  content  to  enjoy  the 
present  and  let  to-morrow  take  care  of  itself. 

It  was  suspected  by  the  shrewd  that  her  Majesty  did  not 
altogether  cherish  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant.  It  was  a 
point  in  her  Majesty's  practice  always  to  make  a  great  show 
of  favour  to  pretty  girls  that  came  into  her  service,  but 
it  generally  came  to  pass  that  if  they  garnered  too  many 
glances  from  the  volatility  of  man,  their  stay  in  the  Court 
aviary  was  but  as  that  of  a  bird  of  passage,  hurrying  from 
shore  to  shore.  Sometimes  they  were  either  hustled  and  bun- 
dled into  a  snug  and  comfortable  marriage  which  whisked 
them  away  to  the  delights  of  child-bearing  in  some  fairly 
distant  manor  house  or  country  seat.  Sometimes  her  Maj- 


24  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

esty  had  occasion,  after  a  steady  course  of  fault-finding, 
suddenly  to  insist  that  they  had  offended  once  too  often, 
and  so  the  delinquent  was  hurried  back  into  whatever 
corner  of  whatever  province  she  came  from,  there  to  make 
the  best  of  her  exile  and  marry  or  not  as  fortune  willed.  In 
short,  it  came  to  this,  that  though  her  Majesty  was  daily 
circled  by  a  bevy  of  pretty  damsels,  the  stay  of  these  stars 
in  the  orbit  of  the  Court  was  habitually  brief,  and  the 
abiding  planets  amongst  the  maids  of  honour  were  gen- 
erally a  little  long  in  the  tooth  and  yellow  in  the  cheek 
and  something  gaunt  and  angular  in  the  figure. 

Those  that  were  well  versed  in  the  astronomy  of  the 
Court  saw  the  fortune  of  Clarenda  Constant  under  no 
favourable  aspect.  The  Queen  protested  that  she  was 
entranced  by  the  child's  beauty,  but  she  made  the  protes- 
tations with  strained  lips  and  squinnied  eyes.  Indeed  there 
was  no  questioning  Clarenda's  beauty.  All  the  men  of  the 
Court  were  mad  about  her,  gallants,  rascallions,  springalds, 
all,  they  toasted  her  charms,  voted  her  incomparable,  danced 
attendance  on  her  whenever  she  was  free  for  such  measures, 
and  played  day-long  and  night-long  at  the  game  of  catching 
her  eye.  Little  of  which  anticking  helped  to  endear  the 
young  lady  to  her  sovereign  mistress,  although  as  yet  her 
sovereign  mistress  showed  no  sign  of  anything  other  than 
the  blandest  affability.  It  was  one  of  the  contrasting  tor- 
ments of  the  Queen's  nature  that  she  loved  to  be  surrounded 
by  the  young  and  the  comely,  but  that,  at  the  same  time, 
she  could  not  endure  to  witness  these  fair  ones  obtaining 
without  question  those  amorous  glances  that  were  only 
surrendered  to  the  divine  Gloriana  by  a  violent  effort  of 
will. 

In  the  case  of  Clarenda  Constant  the  Queen  had  the 
additional  reason  for  irritation  that  she  had  done  the  girl 
a  kindness  out  of  a  sense  of  gratitude.  There  are  few 
senses  monarchs  less  relish  than  an  appeal  to  the  sense  of 
gratitude,  but  the  appeal  that  was  made  on  behalf  of 
Clarenda  Constant  was  scarcely  one  to  be  resisted  with 
credit  or  even  with  decency.  For  in  the  days  when  the 
powerful  Queen  was  a  powerless  princess  with  a  head 
whose  alliance  with  its  shoulders  depended  entirely  upon 
the  whim  of  an  exceedingly  unscrupulous  kinswoman,  and 


THE  QUEEN'S  LADIES  25 

when  to  assert  oneself  as  a  friend  of  the  princess  was  to 
mark  oneself  out  for  very  present  danger,  the  chief  of  the 
impoverished  house  of  Constant  was  as  unfaltering  and 
unafraid  in  his  adherence  to  the  party  of  the  princess  as 
if  he  had  been  surnamed  from  his  nature,  or  had  moulded 
his  nature  upon  his  surname.  There  were  times  when  the 
members  of  Elizabeth's  party  could  be  counted  with  com- 
fort on  the  fingers  and  thumb  of  a  single  glove,  but  in  all 
such  enumerations  the  name  of  this  Constant  was  to  be 
found  of  the  catalogue.  At  a  period  when  a  change  of 
inclination  would  have  meant  honour  and  fortune  this 
Constant  adhered  to  his  poor  princess  just  because  he  loved 
her  and  believed  in  her,  without  thought,  and  indeed  as  it 
then  seemed  without  hope,  of  reward. 

It  would  not  therefore  have  been  humanly  possible  for 
a  great  Queen  to  deny  the  desire  of  the  widow  of  such  a 
loyal  follower.  If  the  Constants,  in  their  poverty,  besought 
for  their  daughter  Clarenda  the  outward  state  and  the 
meagre  emoluments  of  one  of  the  Queen's  women,  it  would 
have  been  the  top  of  ingratitude  to  refuse  the  favour. 
And  the  Queen  did  not  wish  to  seem  ungrateful  to  those 
that  had  served  her  in  the  past,  because  she  always  wished 
to  range  around  her,  inspired  by  those  examples,  men  and 
women  to  serve  her  in  the  present,  who  should  in  their  turn 
serve  as  examples  to,  and  encouragers  to,  those  that  should 
serve  her  in  the  future.  For  it  was  part  of  the  Queen's 
policy  to  act  as  if  she  and  her  reign  were  fated  to  endure 
for  ever. 

Clarenda  Constant  hesitated  a  little  before  replying  to 
her  royal  mistress.  She  was  not  of  a  hesitating  disposition, 
nor  was  hers  a  faltering  tongue,  but  there  were  few  indeed 
whose  composure  carried  them  triumphantly  out  of  the 
range  of  that  wrinkled  face,  so  seamed  and  scarred  with 
history,  out  of  the  fire  of  those  tameless,  questioning,  un- 
merciful eyes.  But  she  had  to  speak  and  she  spoke  and 
her  voice  was  as  delightful  as  her  face  and  her  hair  and  her 
eyes  and  her  lips  and  all  the  rest  of  her. 

"With  your  Majesty's  good  leave,"  she  said,  "I  am  of 
opinion  that  there  is  no  better  entertainment  in  the  world 
than  to  play  off  a  joke  upon  some  complaisant,  unsuspicious 
innocent.  To  make  a  man  think  he  is  a  king,  for  instance, 


26  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

when  he  is  no  such  matter,  or  to  befool  him  in  love,  and  to 
make  him  do  as  one  pleased.  For  to  do  as  one  pleases  is 
surely  the  best  thing  in  the  world." 

The  Queen  looked  with  a  puzzled  frown  upon  Clarenda. 
She  did  not  deny  that  the  girl's  suggestion  had  its  merits, 
but  she  could  not  see  how  it  was  with  convenience  and 
swiftness  to  be  applied.  So  she  adroitly  shifted  to  the  girl's 
comment. 

"Tell  me,  minion,"  she  questioned,  "what  you  would 
do  if  some  fairy  came  down  the  chimney  and  proffered 
you  the  familiar  three  wishes.  How  would  you  voice  your 
heart's  desires?" 

"Why,"  cried  the  girl,  "in  the  first  place  I  should  wish 
to  be  always  young  and  always  beautiful."  She  paused  a 
little  and  then  hurriedly  corrected  the  last  word  to  "comely." 

A  shade  passed  over  the  face  of  Elizabeth,  haggard 
beneath  its  mask  of  paint. 

"That  is  a  thing  which  is  difficult,  even  for  great  Queens," 
she  said  sadly.  Suddenly  she  spoke  more  sharply.  "I  was 
not  thinking  of  miracles,  mistress,  I  was  thinking  of  things 
possible." 

Clarenda  allowed  herself  very  little  time  for  reflection. 

"Why,  I  should  wish,"  she  said  glibly,  "that  I  had  un- 
limited money  to  spend,  and  that  I  was  always  free  to  do 
exactly  as  I  liked." 

The  Queen  frowned  a  little  at  these  aspirations. 

"You  are  a  worldly  baggage,"  she  protested,  "and  it  is 
perhaps  as  well  for  you  that  no  fairy  godmother  is  likely 
to  come  whisking  into  the  chamber." 

Clarenda  gave  a  little  sigh  and  would  have  spoken,  but 
at  this  moment  the  symposium  of  ladies  was  interrupted. 


CHAPTER   III 

PHILEMON 

WHEN  Hercules  skipped  from  his  pinnace  to  the  quay 
and  looked  about  him  he  found  it  hard  to  realise 
that  he  had  been  so  long  away  from  home.  It  was  many  a 
good  year  since  he  had  last  sailed  from  Plymouth,  and 
yet  the  place  did  not  seem  changed  in  any  way.  So  far 
as  he  could  judge  from  a  general  glance  there  was  not  a 
new  building  in  the  town.  He  might  be  just  about  to  set 
forth  upon  some  feat  of  navigation  instead  of  returning 
from  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Almost  immediately  after  he 
landed  he  met  a  man  whom  he  knew  well,  a  fellow  mariner, 
who  greeted  him  with  a  cheery  nod  and  a  flick  of  the 
fingers,  as  if  he  had  parted  from  him  but  yesterday  in  the 
parlour  of  the  "Dolphin"  instead  of  having  never  clapped 
eyes  upon  him  for  a  long  term  of  time.  Flood  knew  well 
enough  that  it  was  usual  for  Englishmen  like  himself  to 
range  on  the  surface  of  the  great  deep,  to  explore  un- 
dreamed-of countries  and  to  come  home  as  carelessly  as  if 
they  had  lounged  into  the  next  street.  Therefore  he  felt 
almost  angry  with  himself  for  experiencing  any  surprise  at 
the  matter  of  fact  in  his  reception  by  his  old  acquaintance. 
Yet  he  had  to  admit  that  he  did  feel  some  surprise  and 
that  he  wished  it  was  a  little  more  wonderful  for  a  man  to 
return,  as  he  had  returned,  from  the  further  rims  of  ocean 
to  his  own  land. 

After  Hercules,  thus  thinking,  had  walked  a  certain  way 
along  the  sea  front  he  turned  to  the  right  into  a  sloping 
side  street  and  halted  before  a  house  a  little  way  up.  It 
was  an  ancient  house  with  a  handsomely  carved  doorway 
in  an  Italianate  design  of  flowers  and  fruit ;  its  timbers 
were  dark  with  age;  and  the  casement  of  its  first  floor 
projected  over  the  street.  In  this  casement,  through  the 
27 


28  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

open  window,  Hercules  could  see  the  figure  of  a  man  seated 
at  a  table.  His  back  was  to  the  returned  traveller,  but 
Hercules  recognised  the  back  and  the  man  with  a  smile. 
Pushing  the  old  oak  door  which  stood  ajar  he  entered  the 
passage  of  the  house  and  ascended  softly  by  a  flight  of 
stairs  to  the  first  floor.  Here  he  laid  his  hand  softly  upon 
the  latch  of  a  door  and  lifting  it  cautiously  entered  the  room 
and  stood  there  for  some  seconds,  surveying  the  man  at 
the  table  without  the  man  at  the  table  being  at  all  aware 
of  his  presence. 

The  seated  figure  was  a  man  of  about  Hercules'  own  age, 
but  of  a  very  different  standard  of  humanity.  He  was 
slight  and  lean  even  to  frailness  and  the  fine  oval  of  his 
face  was  pale  with  the  pallor  of  delicacy  and  marked  with 
an  unyouthful  gravity  of  ascetic  lines  and  of  lines  that 
were  very  sensual.  He  was  soberly  habited  in  a  sad- 
coloured  suit,  which  was  brightly  enlivened  by  cherry-tinted 
ribbons,  and  he  was  busily  employed  in  working  with  a 
quill  upon  a  sheet  of  paper. 

Hercules  whistled  the  start  of  a  tune  and  the  sound 
swung  the  draughtsman  round  with  a  stare.  What  he  saw 
made  him  spring  from  his  seat  and  rush  forward  with  both 
hands  held  out. 

"Hercules  1" 

"Philemon !" 

The  men's  hands  met  in  the  friendliest  grip;  the  men's 
eyes  scanned  each  other's  face  with  illumination  of  joy. 

"When  did  you  come  up  from  the  sea?"  asked  the  man 
whom  Hercules  had  called  Philemon. 

"  'Tis  little  more  than  an  hour  since  we  sighted  Ply- 
mouth/' Hercules  answered,  "and  the  moment  my  toes 
touched  England  they  turned  to  your  threshold." 

"Always  kind  and  always  friend,"  said  Philemon  gravely. 
His  gravity  was  a  curious  blend  of  sweetness  and  melan- 
choly which  would  puzzle  a  stranger.  Hercules  smiled. 

"Maybe  selfishness  spurred  my  friendship  and  my  speed," 
he  said.  "What  was  your  worship  so  busy  upon  when 
I  came  in  just  now,  that  you  did  not  hearken  to  a  sailor's 
tread  ?" 

He  moved  towards  the  table  as  he  spoke  with  Philemon 
by  his  side.  A  faint  red  flushed  in  Philemon's  cheeks. 


PHILEMON  29 

"It  was  but  idle  work,"  he  protested,  "and  unworthy 
of  your  attention." 

He  made  as  if  to  push  the  paper  from  the  table,  but 
the  brown  hand  of  Hercules  was  quicker  than  the  white 
hand  of  Philemon  and  had  picked  it  up.  It  was  the  pen 
picture  of  the  head  of  a  girl,  showing  the  face  in  profile. 
Though  roughly  sketched  it  was  done  with  a  skill  that 
would  have  made  an  expert  wish  it  were  greater  and  wonder 
why  it  was  not  greater.  Hercules,  who  was  no  such  matter, 
scanned  the  portrait  curiously. 

"It  is  a  pretty  face,"  he  said  carelessly.  "Is  it  a  fancy 
sketch?" 

"It  is  more  than  a  pretty  face,"  Philemon  insisted  warmly. 
"It  is  a  very  beautiful  face." 

Hercules  turned  his  curiosity  from  the  picture  to  the  face 
of  his  friend,  and  noted  its  unwonted  red. 

"You  may  call  it  in  a  sense  a  portrait,"  Philemon  an- 
swered with  some  embarrassment  in  his  voice,  in  reply  to 
the  question  in  his  friend's  glance.  "It  is  a  delineation 
from  memory  and  most  unworthy  of  its  original." 

Hercules  glanced  back  to  the  paper  that  he  still  held 
in  his  hand.  He  saw  with  appreciation  the  mutinous 
beauty  that  the  cunning  of  Philemon's  touch  had  rendered 
patent. 

"She  is  comely,"  he  admitted,  a  thought  less  carelessly 
than  before.  "Who  is  the  damsel?" 

Philemon  shook  his  head. 

"I  cannot  tell  you.  I  know  nothing  of  her  save  that  I 
believe  that  she  is  staying  on  a  visit  at  King's  Welcome." 

"Then,"  questioned  Hercules,  fluttering  the  paper  in  his 
hand  till  the  lines  traced  by  Philemon  seemed  to  tremble 
into  life,  "how  this?" 

The  unfamiliar  colour  deepened  a  little  on  the  draughts- 
man's face.  "I  encountered  her  on  the  downs  the  other 
day,"  he  said.  "I  was  riding  there,  as  is  my  custom,  when 
she  galloped  by  me.  I  had  but  a  passing  glimpse  of  her, 
and  that  foolish  toy  you  play  with  is  no  more  than  my 
memory  of  the  glimpse." 

Hercules  laid  the  paper  down. 

"A  pleasant  memory,  pleasantly  presented,"  he  said. 
"And  now  shall  we  liumour  a  little  that  selfishness  I 


30  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

talked  of.  Have  you  not  something  to  show  me  that  is 
better  like  to  please  than  a  girl's  face?" 

Philemon  nodded.  He  opened  a  drawer  in  the  table  he 
had  been  working  on  and  took  therefrom  two  small  rolls 
neatly  tied  with  silk  cord.  As  he  did  so  he  picked  the 
portrait  from  the  table  and  put  it  into  the  drawer,  which 
he  closed. 

"Here  is  The  Golden  Hart,"  he  said,  and  he  handed  one 
of  the  rolls  to  his  visitor.  Hercules  undid  the  silk,  un- 
folded the  paper,  holding  it  flat  upon  the  table,  and  sur- 
veyed its  presentment,  while  Philemon  peeped  at  it  over 
his  elbow. 

The  subject  represented  was  certainly  curious  enough. 
At  first  a  spectator  would  have  taken  it  for  a  skilfully 
coloured  presentation  of  a  sturdy  ship,  without  rigging  or 
sails,  and  with  no  more  than  a  short  column  of  wood  where 
the  mainmast  should  be.  But  in  another  second  he  would 
realise  that  this  vessel  neither  rode  the  seas  nor  lay  at  ease 
in  harbour  or  dock,  but  that  she  stood  bedded,  as  it  were, 
on  a  stately  and  spacious  lawn,  and  was  neighboured  by 
gay  spaces  of  garden  and  orchard  and  backed  in  the  dis- 
tance by  a  fringe  of  companionable  trees.  It  was  very 
skilfully  done,  and  in  a  corner  ran  the  inscription  in  a  fine 
Italian  hand  of  write:  "Philemon  Minster  fecit."  The 
uninformed  beholder  would  probably  take  the  picture  for 
some  allegory  or  emblem  such  as  the  time  admired. 

Hercules  Flood  looked  at  the  picture  with  an  air  of 
great  approval.  He  drew  a  deep  breath  of  satisfaction, 
smiled  a  delighted  smile  and  turned  towards  the  somewhat 
anxious  countenance  of  Philemon  a  face  beaming  with 
approval. 

"By  the  burnt  beard  of  Philip,"  he  cried.  "You  have 
done  better  than  I  dared  to  hope  with  all  my  trust  in  you. 
Never  was  better  promise  made  of  a  landship  yet.  There 
it  lies,  much  as  I  have  seen  it  in  my  dreams.  Will  it  be 
long,  I  pray  you,  before  I  behold  it  in  reality?" 

Philemon  Minster  smiled  the  gratified  smile  of  the  flat- 
tered artist. 

"You  may  see  it  no  later  than  this  blessed  day  if  you 
will,"  he  replied,  "for  the  last  plank  was  fitted  and  the 
last  nail  driven  home  three  days  ago." 


PHILEMON  31 

Hercules,  abandoning  his  picture  for  the  moment, 
swung  round  from  the  table  and  clasped  his  friend  in  his 
arms. 

"God  bless  you,  Philemon  Minster,"  he  cried,  "for  a 
true  friend  to  a  man  that  hatches  a  mad  fancy  under  his 
cap." 

"It  certainly  was  a  whimsical  ambition,"  said  Philemon 
when  he  had  recovered  some  volume  of  the  breath  that 
his  friend's  hug  had  squeezed  out  of  him,  "to  build  your- 
self a  house  that  should  be  like  unto  a  ship  as  much  as  a 
dwelling  that  is  set  upon  the  relatively  stable  land  can 
resemble  one  that  is  set  upon  the  shifting  waters.  But 
it  appealed  to  my  fancy,  that  is  I  fear  me  too  lively  and 
responsive  to  the  idleness  and  wantonness  of  vanity." 

Philemon  sighed  heavily,  and  Hercules  gave  him  a  joy- 
ous push  with  his  forefinger  that  sent  him  sliding  across 
the  floor. 

"Fie  on  your  hard  names,"  Hercules  protested.  "There 
is  no  vanity  nor  wantonness  in  my  whim.  On  the  con- 
trary it  is  a  sane  and  sound  venture.  For  a  seafaring 
man  cannot  hope  to  fare  upon  the  sea  for  ever  nor  yet 
might  he  wish  to  do  so,  and  yet  to  a  seafaring  man  there 
is  no  comfort  such  as  is  afforded  by  the  sides  and  bulwarks 
of  a  ship.  So,  as  I  say,  a  retired  mariner,  when  his 
strength  for  the  usage  of  the  sea  is  spent,  may,  if  he  lives 
in  a  house  that  is  shaped  like  a  ship,  still  feel,  as  he  walks 
easy  of  days  and  lies  snug  of  nights  that  he  is,  in  a  measure, 
living  the  wide  life." 

"I  wonder  if  such  a  thought  ever  came  to  any  sailor 
before  you,"  Philemon  speculated,  taxing  his  classical 
memories.  Hercules  did  not  heed  him,  but  went  on  with 
his  reflections. 

"Although  his  house  may  be  girdled  with  garden  and 
orchard,  still  he  may  fancy  that  through  the  changing 
smells  and  stinks  of  the  seasons,  there  still  pierces  the 
pungency  of  the  salt  water.  When  he  lies  abed  in  his 
shipman's  bunk  he  can  please  himself  with  the  fancy  that 
the  wind  which  is  kicking  the  leaves  is  in  reality  crisping 
the  waves." 

"You  talk  like  a  rude  poet,"  said  Philemon  Minster 
gravely,  half  admiration  and  half  abhorrence. 


32  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"Good  God,  I  hope  not,"  cried  Hercules  heartily,  and 
he  crossed  himself  unconsciously  as  he  spoke,  for  the  cus- 
tom of  the  ancient  faith  still  lingered  even  amongst  those 
who  had  come  to  regard  it  as  only  the  creed  of  Spain. 
"I  speak  my  mind  and  I  want  no  fringe  to  it.  Tell  me,  lad, 
was  there  any  difficulty  put  in  the  way  of  your  task?" 

Philemon  Minster  shook  his  head. 

"Not  a  jot,"  he  assured  his  friend.  "The  order  you 
gave  me  upon  Master  Mannaver  seemed  to  command 
Golconda.  Willing  hands,  spirited  to  their  work  by  a 
generous  yet  sensible  expenditure  of  Spanish  spoil,  were 
brisk  to  realise  your  ambition." 

"I  wish  I  had  been  here  to  see  it  all,"  Hercules  reflected, 
pulling  at  his  beard  moodily. 

"I  wish  you  had,"  Philemon  agreed.  "It  would  have 
entertained  you  to  see  a  crazy  old  farmhouse  fade  out 
of  existence  and  in  its  place  arise  the  amazing  edifice  that 
your  mind  had  schemed." 

"Lord,  Lord,"  groaned  Hercules,  "what  sport  I  have 
missed  while  I  have  been  sailing  the  seas." 

"We  had  the  best  ship's  carpenters  in  Plymouth  to  work 
at  the  job,"  Minster  continued,  "and  we  ran  you  up  a 
comely  ship  with  a  true  and  proper  figurehead  that  points 
its  nose  into  the  pleasantry  of  the  kitchen  garden,  with  a 
name  about  its  bow  that  commemorates  your  own  vessel 
and  links  you  with  The  Golden  Hart.  Truly  it  is  from  the 
outward  view  lacking  many  things  that  pertain  and  are 
indeed  essential  to  a  sea-going  ship.  For  it  is  sans  sails  and 
sans  masts  and  sans  cords.  But,  at  least  below  decks,  all 
is  properly  shipshape,  with  companion-ways,  and  cabins  and 
ship's  lanterns,  and  such  a  galley  as  would  ravish  any  true 
minded  sea-cook." 

"Dear  Lord,  how  jovial  it  does  all  sound,"  Hercules 
chuckled,  rubbing  his  brown  hands. 

"Moreover,"  continued  Philemon,  "though  the  windows 
are  wider  than  portholes  they  carry  the  porthole  shape, 
and  the  stairs  are  balustered  with  sturdy  rope,  and  the 
floors  are  all  as  well  caulked  as  any  ship's  in  the  Queen's 
navy,  and  there  is  not  a  piece  of  timber  in  the  whole  jest 
that  was  not  cut  from  wood  that  has  served  or  was  fit  to 
serve  upon  the  seas." 


PHILEMON  33 

Hercules  vowed  that  Philemon  was  the  best  fellow  in 
the  world.  Philemon  looked  modestly  gratified,  but  his 
smile  suggested  to  Hercules  that  there  was  more  to  come, 
and  there  was. 

"I  have  not  forgotten  your  other  ambition,  neither," 
Philemon  declared,  as  he  withdrew  the  silk  girdle  from 
the  second  paper,  "nor  failed,  as  I  hope,  to  satisfy  it." 

He  spread  out  the  second  paper  on  the  table  and  dis- 
played to  Hercules  another  and  very  different  picture. 
Hercules  uttered  a  joyous  cry. 

"Mountdragon,  by  the  gods,"  he  said,  "Mountdragon." 

Philemon  nodded. 

"Aye,"  he  said,  "Mountdragon,  and  what  is  more  a 
habitable  Mountdragon,  a  dry  Mountdragon,  a  Mount- 
dragon  that  has  boards  on  its  floors  and  rafters  to  its  roof, 
a  Mountdragon  that  will  keep  out  wind  and  weather.  We 
have  set  right  the  ravages  of  time,  I  promise  you.  It  cost 
a  pretty  penny  to  do  as  much,  but  then  you  had  plenty  of 
pretty  pennies  to  spend  and  I  had  your  commands,  which 
were  direct  and  comprehensive." 

Hercules  clapped  his  friend  heartily  on  the  shoulder. 

"Bully  lad,"  he  said,  "you  make  the  best  of  magicians. 
When  I  was  a  lad  and  loved  to  roam  over  moorland,  I  came 
upon  that  same  ancient  castle  and  fell  in  love  with  it  and 
swore  myself  an  oath  that,  God  willing,  I  would  some  day 
be  its  master.  And  now  here  I  stand,  lord  of  Mount- 
dragon.  Lord,  it  is  like  a  fairy  tale." 

"Do  you  know  why  it  is  called  Mountdragon?"  asked 
Philemon,  with  the  air  of  one  that  could  vouchsafe  the 
necessary  information,  but  Hercules  did  not  give  him  the 
chance. 

"To  be  sure  I  do,"  he  said.  "It  is  told  that  a  dragon 
lived  in  days  of  yore  in  the  heart  of  the  swelling  hills, 
and  was  the  terror  of  the  countryside,  until  a  gallant 
knight  took  heart  and  arms  and  slew  the  worm,  and  to 
commemorate  the  deed  built  him  a  castle  on  the  scene  of 
the  encounter." 

"I  wish,"  mused  Philemon,  pensively,  "that  I  were  not 
so  fond  of  such  stories/' 

"For  my  part,"  continued  Hercules,  "I  believe  that  there 
was  no  dragon  at  all,  but  just  some  robber  baron  who 


34  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

would  ride  forth  with  his  men  to  plunder  and  pillage  on 
the  highway  and  then  sweep  away  like  the  wind  to  the 
safety  of  his  den." 

"Like  enough,"  agreed  Philemon.  "Time  that  softens 
the  asperities  of  this  planet  has  smoothed  the  robber  baron 
and  his  kind  off  the  face  of  the  West  Country,  unless  you 
intend  to  revive  the  kind  and  the  customs,"  he  added  with 
a  sly  smile. 

"Nay,"  answered  Hercules,  "for  me  it  shall  be  no  more 
than  a  dwelling-place,  whither  I  shall  go  when  my  mood 
calls  me  to  be  solitary.  I  am  not  like  to  use  it  much,  but 
I  should  have  been  sorry  to  think  that  the  old  place  was 
crumbling  to  pieces,  and  yet  more  sorry  to  know  that  it 
had  fallen  into  hands  that  might  have  trimmed  and  pruned 
it  into  a  nowadays  mansion.  So  I  have  no  regret  for  what 
the  toy  has  cost  me." 

"How  say  you?"  asked  Philemon.  "Shall  we  set  forth 
at  this  present  and  bring  you  acquainted  with  The  Golden 
Hart?" 

"All  in  good  time,"  said  Hercules.  "I  long  to  see  my 
good  ship  sail  the  field,  but  I  will  have  it  that  we  take 
the  'Dolphin'  on  our  way  and  drink  a  cup  there.  Do  you 
not  haunt  the  'Dolphin'  ?" 

Philemon  shook  his  head. 

"I  fear  me,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  I  have  an  over-great 
liking  for  the  wines  of  France,  wherefore  I  make  it  my 
duty  to  mortify  that  vanity." 

Hercules  seated  himself  upon  the  table,  and  taking  a 
dried  apple  from  a  dish  of  such  dainties  that  stood  there, 
bit  a  piece  out  of  it  and  chewed  it. 

"Why,"  said  he  as  he  munched,  "as  for  that,  I  hold  it 
no  vanity  to  like  so  kindly  a  creature  as  wine,  so  long 
as  I  keep  his  kindness  to  be  my  servant  and  never  my 
master." 

Again  the  colour  mounted  into  Philemon's  pale  cheeks. 

"I  find  it  hard,"  he  confessed,  "to  keep  the  pleasant 
vassals  of  the  passions  under  control.  Let  us,  if  you  love 
me,  give  the  'Dolphin'  the  go-by  and  visit  The  Golden 
Hart." 


CHAPTER    IV 

MY  LORD  OF  GODALMING 

THE  door  of  the  Queen's  closet  opened  and  a  head 
cautiously  intruded  itself.  It  was  the  head  of  a 
small,  smooth-faced  man,  clad  in  a  habit  that  was  not 
exactly  a  livery  and  was  not  exactly  a  specimen  of  indi- 
vidual attire.  He  belonged  to  a  kind  that  is  hard  to  classify, 
yet  that  is  known,  and  has  been  known,  all  the  world  over 
in  the  dwellings  of  the  great.  He  was  perhaps  the  only  man 
in  all  the  Court  who  would  have  presumed  to  put  his  head, 
unpermitted  and  unsummoned,  thus  through  the  door  that 
day.  He  was,  in  a  sentence,  one  of  those  strange  creatures, 
part  sycophant,  part  adviser,  part  confidant  and  part  buf- 
foon, that  seem  so  often  to  attach  themselves  to  the  intimate 
service  of  royal  personages,  and  who  in  their  very  seeming 
insignificance  outweigh  the  values  of  ministers  and  captains. 
What  Olivier  le  Dain  was  to  Louis  XL,  what  Simon  the 
Gascon  was  to  William  of  Normandy,  what  Periclides  the 
Humpback  was  to  the  Conqueror  of  Ind,  such  was  this 
intruder  to  the  Queen  who  was  closeted  with  her  sisterkins. 
He  was  a  confidential  servant. 

Nobody  was  better  known  at  Court  than  Jock  Holiday. 
He  had  first  come  to  London  as  the  bearer  of  a  present 
of  shortcake  from  the  King  of  Scots  to  the  Queen  of 
England.  The  shortcake  was  eaten  and  applauded,  but 
the  Queen  appreciated  even  more  highly  the  broad  and 
rustic  humour  of  the  bearer,  and  Jock  Holiday  remained 
in  England  attached  to  the  Queen's  person.  There  were 
those  who  hinted  that  this  was  exactly  what  James  Stuart 
had  hoped  for.  Certainly  in  a  short  time  Jock  Holiday 
was  so  established  a  favourite  that  Henry  of  France  once 
jestingly  asked  Sully  to  write,  not  to  "our  loving  cousin 
Elizabeth"  but  to  "our  loving  cousin  Jock  Holiday." 
35 


36  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

When  the  new-comer  found  that  the  intrusion  of  his 
head  did  not  have  the  desired  effect  of  attracting  the 
Queen's  attention,  he  hazarded  a  cough  of  extraordinary 
dryness  which  very  nearly  had  the  result  of  causing  the 
Queen,  who  had  again  attacked  the  conserve  and  was 
busy  with  her  last  spoonful,  to  squander  its  precious  cargo 
outside  instead  of  inside  her  stomacher.  As  it  was,  she 
choked  slightly  in  swallowing  the  spoonful,  looked  sternly 
at  the  head  and  spoke  sternly. 

"Well,  sirrah,  what  is  it?" 

Jock  Holiday  slipped  into  the  room,  slid  like  a  very  image 
of  discretion  across  the  chamber  till  he  stood  between 
the  Queen's  ladies  and  the  Queen.  Then  he  made  a  humble 
reverence  and  informed  his  mistress  that  my  lord  of 
Godalming  entreated  audience  on  a  matter  of  moment.  The 
Queen  frowned. 

"A  matter  of  moment  to  me  or  a  matter  of  moment  to 
him,  I  wonder?"  she  asked.  The  myrmidon  took  it  upon 
himself  to  reply. 

"I  would  wager  it  were  a  matter  of  moment  to  himself," 
he  declared  pertly,  "for  the  old  chanticleer  is  as  brisk  as 
if  he  were  a  cockerel  and  as  gaudy  as  Tamerlane  in  the 
play." 

The  Queen  struck  the  fellow  lightly  on  the  mouth  with 
her  fan. 

"You  must  not  speak  so  of  my  lord  Godalming,"  she 
chided.  "He  is  too  old  a  friend  to  be  denied  even  our 
privacy.  And  yet  I  wish,"  she  added,  with  a  rueful  glance 
at  the  vessel  that  held  the  conserve,  "that  he  could  have 
chosen  some  other  time  for  his  importunity." 

"Shall  I  tell  him  to  go  to  the "  Jock  Holiday  began. 

The  Queen  shot  him  a  sharp  glance  of  reproof,  but  the 
knave  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  was  not  going  to  say  what  you  think,"  he  insisted, 
"or  rather  I  was  going  to  say  it  in  another  way.  Shall  I 
tell  him  to  go  to  the  King  of  Spain — who  is  surely  the 
devil's  viceroy  upon  earth,"  he  added  in  a  lower  tone. 

The  Queen  smiled. 

"Tell  my  lord  Godalming  that  it  is  our  good  pleasure  to 
receive  him  here  at  this  present." 

The  confidant  bowed  again  and  withdrew,  feeling  that 


MY  LORD  OF  GODALMING  37 

he  had  honestly  earned  the  gift  of  gold  pieces  which  my 
lord  of  Godalming  had  pressed  into  his  palm. 

When  he  had  gone  the  Queen  turned  to  her  ladies. 

"Sisterkins,"  she  said,  "you  must  quit  me  for  a  little, 
but  wait  in  the  adjoining  hall,  and  let  us  all  pray  that  my 
lord  Godalming  may  be  brief  in  his  business.  But  set 
this  exceeding  fine  conserve  on  yonder  side-table  before 
you  go.  I  would  not  trust  it  among  you.  When  you 
returned  you  would  swear  it  had  melted  all  in  the  sun, 
or  that  the  cat  had  eaten  it,  or  some  such  other  excuse. 
I  know  you  baggages.  Be  off  with  you." 

The  four  maids,  protesting  shrilly,  fluttered  from  the 
room.  The  last  of  their  voluminous  skirts  had  scarcely 
whisked  through  the  door  that  led  into  the  adjacent  hall 
before  the  other  door  opened  and  the  confidant,  reappear- 
ing, announced  "My  lord  of  Godalming."  Then  the  con- 
fidant drew  back  to  give  place  to  him  he  heralded,  and  my 
lord  of  Godalming  came  forward.  The  confidant  with- 
drew, closing  the  door  behind  him,  and  my  lord  of 
Godalming  and  the  Queen  were  face  to  face. 

My  lord  of  Godalming  was  one  of  the  great  statesmen 
of  his  age.  He  had  grown  old  through  the  reigns  of  four 
sovereigns,  but  he  carried  his  age  with  serenity  and  dis- 
tinction. He  had  been  born  in  the  atmosphere  of  a  Court, 
bred  in  the  atmosphere  of  a  Court;  he  had  breathed  courtly 
atmosphere  almost  all  his  life.  A  son  of  one  of  the  few 
statesmen  that  contrived  to  preserve  the  favour  of  the  eighth 
Henry  to  the  end,  the  young  Godalming  was  early  initiated 
into  the  ways  of  statesmanship,  and  as  soldier,  diplomatist 
and  counsellor  he  sought  and  attained  eminence.  He  had 
been  something  hard  put  to  it  to  keep  his  head  on  his 
shoulders  in  the  reign  of  the  Queen's  sister  and  prede- 
cessor, but  he  had  managed  the  ticklish  business.  His 
great  chance  came  with  the  accession  of  Elizabeth,  and 
from  that  moment  Godalming's  fortune  had  not  faltered. 
Though  he  was  never  among  the  foremost  in  the  public 
eye,  he  was  ever  one  of  the  most  intimate  of  the  Queen's 
advisers.  He  served  her  with  sword  and  with  pen,  with 
hand  and  with  brain,  and  as  her  reign  rose  in  glory  his 
dignity  rose  with  it. 

The  Queen   surveyed  her  visitor  with   some  surprise. 


38  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

She  knew  that,  as  if  in  disdain  of  his  years,  he  always 
dressed  with  the  precision  and  choice  of  a  young  man, 
though  without  a  hint  of  foppery,  and  she  admired  his 
temper  and  the  habitual  grave  richness  of  his  habit.  But 
his  attire  that  morning  was  of  another  fashion,  a  day's 
march  ahead  of  his  custom.  Had  he  been  standing  to 
represent  his  sovereign  in  the  presence  of  a  congress  of 
crowned  heads  he  could  not  have  been  arrayed  with  more 
splendour,  have  proved  more  point-device.  His  clothes 
were  all  of  the  noblest  materials,  the  orders  upon  his  body, 
that  represented  the  esteem  of  the  civilised  world,  glowed 
in  the  colour  of  ribands  and  jewels  upon  their  background 
of  black  and  gold.  She  wondered  what  was  to  follow  this 
parade  of  magnificence,  and  though  she  could  be  the  most 
patient  of  women  upon  occasion,  there  was  no  need  of 
patience  now  and  she  did  not  mean  to  wait  upon  impa- 
tience. A  pair  of  uplifted  hands  and  a  squawk  of  astonish- 
ment were  the  briefest  prelude  to  question. 

"Well,  my  lord,"  she  said,  "what  is  the  meaning  of  this 
display?  My  honour,  it  dazzles  me  so  I  must  shield  my 
poor  eyes."  Here  she  held  up  her  fan  and  affected  to  peer 
coquettishly  through  the  sticks.  "It  should  be  May  Day 
to  account  for  your  gayness." 

The  statesman,  for  his  part,  had  been  observing  the 
Queen  with  such  intentness  as  was  compatible  with  his 
dignity  and  his  courtesy.  He  studied  the  yellow  face  that 
he  had  seen  a  thousand  times,  the  yellow  face  with  its 
crown  of  ruddy  hair  that  he  had  watched  in  its  change 
from  the  smooth-skinned  girl  into  the  wrinkled  beldame. 
He  knew  that  she  thought,  or  affected  to  think,  herself 
the  smooth-skinned  girl,  and  that  all  around  her,  including 
himself,  assisted  to  encourage  the  affectation.  Now,  as 
ever,  he  found  himself  wondering  what  she  really  thought 
of  herself  and  life,  wondered  to  the  point  of  delaying  to 
reply  to  his  mistress's  question.  The  mistress  frowned  a 
little  at  the  delay. 

"Come,  my  lord,"  she  said  sharply,  "our  Court  is  not 
a  masque  for  you  to  peacock  in.  Why,  you  carry  more 
trinkets  than  a  pedlar." 

Her  visitor  bowed  his  head  as  if  accepting  in  duty  the 
rebuke  without  admitting  its  justice. 


MY  LORD  OF  GODALMING  39 

"Your  Majesty,"  he  answered  slowly,  "there  are,  I  think, 
occasions  in  the  life  of  every  man  when  it  is  decent  for 
him  to  wear  his  bravest  apparel  and  make  the  best  of 
himself." 

The  Queen  looked  at  him  quizzically.  She  did  not  know, 
she  did  not  guess,  what  was  coming,  but  she  felt  that  she 
was  being  amused. 

"Your  Majesty,"  the  man  answered,  "in  the  years  in 
which  I  served  your  brother  I  never  asked  a  favour  of  him ; 
favour,  indeed,  I  found  beyond  my  merit,  but  never  once 
solicited  by  me." 

The  Queen  peered  at  him  through  narrowed  lids,  which 
revealed  only  a  little  of  the  dark  eyes. 

"By  God,"  she  commented,  "you  might  say  the  same 
thing  of  another  reign." 

She  was  puzzled  by  this  preliminary,  wondering  what 
the  man  who  never  asked,  wanted  of  the  woman  who 
did  not  like  to  be  asked  and  who  was  not  often  glad  to 
give. 

"I  am  pleased  to  hear  your  Majesty  say  so,"  he  answered, 
with  a  low  bow,  "for  your  words  anticipate  and  endorse 
the  words  I  was  about  to  utter.  In  the  long  years  in 
which  I  have  served  your  Greatness  I  have  never,  I  believe, 
asked  any  favour  at  your  hands,  though  you,  at  all  times, 
have  rewarded  me  beyond  my  merit." 

The  Queen  affected  to  be  vexed  at  this  reference  to  her 
favours,  though  she  was  not  in  the  least  displeased  and 
heartily  liked  to  be  thanked  for  them. 

"You  have  no  need,"  she  protested,  "of  such  humility, 
my  lord,  to  back  your  suit.  Tell  me  what  you  want,  in 
God's  name,  and  why  you  are  thus  rigged  out." 

"I  come  in  my  best,"  said  the  statesman  with  a  faint 
smile,  "because  I  come  on  a  great  occasion  in  my  life, 
to  make  my  first  request  of  the  sovereign,  of  the  woman 
I  adore." 

He  spoke  the  last  five  words  in  a  slightly  lower  voice 
as  if  it  were  a  confession  he  was  bound  to  make  to  himself 
but  which  was  not  intended  to  reach  the  royal  ear.  It 
did,  of  course,  reach  the  royal  ear  and  the  royal  ear  ac- 
cepted it  graciously.  It  was  the  mode  at  that  Court  for  all 
men,  from  the  youngest  to  the  oldest,  to  be,  before,  beyond 


40  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

and  above  all  other  matters,  passionately  and  hopelessly 
in  love  with  Gloriana.  Gloriana  smiled. 

"Continue,  my  lord,"  she  said,  with  what  she  honestly 
believed  to  be  a  smile.  To  the  man  opposite  her,  in  his 
honesty,  it  was  more  like  a  grin,  the  grin  of  a  great  yellow 
cat  whose  mood  you  could  never  count  upon.  But  he 
knew  that  all  cats  like  to  be  patted,  if  the  patter  is  apt. 

"Your  Majesty,"  he  said,  "I  have  come  to  ask  your  per- 
mission to  solicit  the  hand  in  marriage  of  Mistress  Clarenda 
Constant." 

The  Queen  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  gaped  at  him. 
My  lord,  as  she  knew,  was  over  seventy,  and  his  face 
looked  well  its  age  though  his  body,  thanks  to  abstinence 
and  exercise,  had  preserved  its  trimness.  He  was  for 
wooing  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant,  who  was  the  youngest 
and  the  loveliest  of  the  maids  of  honour,  who  was  admired 
by  every  male  that  came  near  her  for  her  beauty! 

"Are  you  making  game  of  me,  my  lord?"  she  asked 
when  she  had  recovered  her  breath.  "I  do  not  love  to  be 
played  the  fool  with." 

My  lord  bowed  again  gravely.  If  the  Queen's  outspoken 
astonishment  caused  him  any  pang  or  prick  he  showed 
no  sign  of  either  on  his  face. 

"Your  Majesty  knows  me  well  enough  to  be  sure  that 
I  should  not  presume  upon  her  goodness,  or  that  I  am 
ever  given  to  unseasonable  hilarity.  I  make  my  request, 
however  strange  it  may  naturally  appear  to  your  Majesty, 
in  all  sincerity,  in  all  earnestness,  in  all  hope  that  it  may 
meet  with  your  Majesty's  approval." 

It  was  quite  plain  that  my  lord  was  speaking  the  truth. 
Indeed  the  Queen  had  never  really  doubted  that  fact  for  a 
moment. 

"Man,"  she  cried,  "what  has  put  this  crack  into  your 
head?  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  so  old  a  shepherd  as 
yourself  is,  God  amend  us,  of  a  mind  to  woo  the  youngest 
of  our  nymphs?  I  do  not  like  to  misread  you,  my  lord, 
but  it  looks  like  no  clean  thing." 

My  lord's  face  showed  quite  impassive  under  the  raillery 
and  the  suspicion  of  his  sovereign. 

"I  can  assure  your  Majesty,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  my 
thoughts  in  this  matter  are  honest  thoughts  and  honour- 


MY  LORD  OF  GODALMING  41 

able  thoughts.  I  am  no  David  looking  for  an  Abishag,  but 
a  gentleman  of  honourable  lineage  and  sufficient  fortune 
to  make  his  offer  one  to  be  considered.  I  bear  indeed  the 
disadvantage  of  a  number  of  years,  if  indeed  that  be  a 
disadvantage,  seeing  that  she  is  sooner  likely  to  be  rid 
of  me." 

The  Queen  looked  at  him  thoughtfully,  weighing  his 
words  and  knowing  the  truth  of  them.  He  was  a  great 
lord  with  a  great  name  and  great  possessions.  There 
was,  probably,  no  free  woman  in  England  who  would  not 
be  glad  of  such  a  chance;  certainly  there  would  be  none 
if  it  were  known  that  the  Queen  approved  of  the  marriage. 

The  Queen  looked  at  him  with  renewed  wonder.  Could 
it  be  possible,  she  asked  herself,  that  he  had  really  out- 
grown the  passion  of  his  past;  that  the  wish  for  fidelity 
possessed  him  no  more.  His  wooing  and  his  winning  of 
his  lady  had  been  like  a  tale  out  of  Malory;  his  married 
happiness  had  been  a  marvel  in  days  when  the  record  of 
a  much  married  and  an  unluckily  married  king  was  a  near 
memory.  It  had  always  been  taken  for  granted  that  his 
grief  for  his  lady's  loss  had  shut  the  door  of  his  heart 
against  any  further  thoughts  of  love  or  even  of  liking;  and 
this  assumption  had  been  justified  through  more  years  than 
the  Queen  cared  to  compute.  And  now  all  of  a  sudden, 
in  the  winter  of  his  years,  here  he  was  desirous  to  unite 
himself  in  wedlock  with  the  youngest  minx  at  Court.  The 
Queen  weighed  Godalming's  denials  of  ignoble  desire  with 
her  habitual  cynicism  and  was  scarcely  prepared  to  be- 
lieve them.  But  that,  after  all,  was  his  affair,  his  and  the 
maid's.  If  he  was  willing  to  pay  for  such  a  plaything 
and  she  was  willing  to  be  paid  for,  it  was  not  business  of 
hers  to  interfere  in  the  matter.  She  owed  Godalming  too 
much  gratitude  to  cross  his  wish  in  so  cheap  a  courtesy 
as  this. 

"My  lord,"  she  said,  "I  had  it  in  my  mind  that  your 
heart  was  elsewhere." 

He  knew  what  she  meant  well  enough,  but  he  made  as 
if  he  did  not  know.  There  was  no  escaping  the  courtly 
etiquette  which  assumed  the  worship  of  the  incomparable 
Gloriana. 

"Alas!"  he  sighed.    "I  am  no  eagle  to  gaze  at  the  sun." 


42  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

The  Queen  was  pleased  now,  as  she  was  always  pleased, 
by  the  extravagance.  But  she  affected  to  condemn. 

"Hush,  my  lord,"  she  said,  "we  do  not,  would  not,  under- 
stand you.  In  what  I  said  I  meant  that  your  heart  was 
still  with  a  dear  memory." 

My  lord  bowed  his  head,  and  for  a  moment  a  faint 
show  of  colour  tinged  his  cheeks,  only  to  go  as  swiftly 
as  it  came.  He  was  thinking,  as  the  Queen  was  thinking, 
of  the  one  love  of  his  life,  the  love  that  was  buried  in 
the  chapel  of  his  race  under  a  great  splendour  of  marble 
trappings.  He  gave  no  direct  answer  to  the  Queen's 
words. 

"It  is  my  sincere  wish,"  he  repeated,  "to  ask  for  the 
hand  of  the  Lady  Clarenda  Constant.  If  your  Majesty  will 
be  pleased  to  approve  of  my  suit  you  will  give  me  great 
content." 

"There  is  another  matter  to  consider,"  the  Queen  sug- 
gested with  a  leer.  "Oh,  my  good  lord,  think  of  the  peril 
in  which  you  place  that  honourable  forehead.  Why,  there 
is  the  full  half  of  a  century  between  you.  How  shall  twenty 
consort  with  seventy  save  on  unhappy  terms?  You  will 
surely  find  some  brisk  young  cuckoo  slipping  into  your  cold 
nest  when  your  elderly  back  is  turned." 

Still  the  face  of  the  ancient  statesman  did  not  betray 
the  least  dissatisfaction  at  the  Queen's  somewhat  heavy- 
handed  pleasantry. 

"That,  your  Majesty,"  he  replied  calmly,  "is  for  the 
future  to  determine,  and  no  one,  not  even  a  monarch,  is 
prophet  enough  to  know  what  the  future  may  be  for  the 
least  or  the  greatest  of  his  subjects.  I  can  only  hope  that, 
when  I  come  to  be  married,  my  wife  will  carry  herself  in  a 
manner  befitting  to  the  name  she  bears." 

He  spoke  with  such  a  simple  dignity  and  looked  so  gallant 
and  confident  as  he  spoke,  that  for  a  moment  the  Queen 
could  almost  believe  that  he  and  she  were  many  years 
younger,  back  again  in  those  brave  days  when  handsome 
Godalming  was  her  chief  prop.  For  a  queer  instant  she 
felt  really  young  again,  not  merely  young  with  the  sham 
youth  of  her  "sisterkins"  business,  and  she  felt  grateful  to 
him  for  the  experience.  But  because  of  the  element  in  her 
nature  which  forced  her  to  resent  the  turn  of  any  man's 


MY  LORD  OF  GODALMING  43 

thoughts  to  another  than  herself  she  could  not  or  would 
not  refrain  from  teasing  him  a  little. 

"If  you  go  on  with  this  business,  my  lord,"  she  said,  "I 
very  much  fear  that  the  young  gallants  will  laugh  at  you." 

"They  may  laugh  at  me  behind  my  back,"  said  the  old 
courtier  composedly,  "but  I  think  I  can  promise  your 
Majesty  that  they  will  not  laugh  at  me  to  my  beard.  I 
still  wear  a  blade  that  has  been  proud,  now  and  then,  to 
take  the  air  for  your  Majesty's  service,  and  those  that 
would  make  merry  with  me  would  find  that  my  hand  of 
sword  is  well  nigh  as  good  as  ever." 

This  was  indeed  true,  for  the  hand  that  he  clapped  to 
the  hilt  of  his  weapon  still  showed  all  the  strength  and 
something  of  the  smoothness  of  its  prime. 

Elizabeth  surveyed  the  veteran  with  curiosity  and  admira- 
tion. She  had,  however,  all  her  father's  frankness  of 
speech  and  did  not  allow  herself  to  be  hag-ridden  by  any 
unnecessary  delicacy  of  thought  or  phrase. 

"Why,  you  old  fool,"  she  cried,  but  she  gave  the  term 
good-humouredly  as  a  cat  will  give  a  good-humoured  cuff 
with  its  paw,  "you  are  not  so  vain  I  pray  as  to  hope  for  an 
heir  of  your  body  at  this  time  of  day." 

My  lord  shook  his  head  without  any  show  of  annoyance 
at  the  Queen's  bluntness. 

"I  hold  neither  such  a  hope  nor  such  a  wish,"  he  said. 
"I  have  in  my  nephew  a  youth  who  will  in  his  due  time 
uphold  the  family  honour  and  employ  the  family  wealth. 
But  until  that  time  come  let  us  suppose  that  I  find  myself 
a  little  lonely,  what  you  please.  If  the  lady  I  speak  of 
accept  my  offer  I  can  endow  her  very  nobly  without  in 
any  way  wronging  or  despoiling  him  who  shall  inherit  my 
titles  and  estates." 

This  was  undoubtedly  true  as  the  Queen  knew  very  well. 
.Such  an  offer  was  a  mighty  chance  for  a  maid  in  the  situa- 
tion of  Clarenda  Constant,  and  her  family  would  rejoice 
at  the  chance,  whatever  the  young  lady  herself  might  think 
of  the  matter. 

"Great  Heavens,  my  lord,"  asked  the  Queen  impatiently, 
"have  you  duly  reflected  upon  the  consequences  of  your 
folly?  Do  you  know  anything  of  this  child's  mind?  I 
cannot  think  that  you  are  very  well  acquainted  with  her." 


44  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"I  have  had  very  little  speech  with  the  young  lady," 
my  lord  admitted  composedly,  "very  little  speech  indeed. 
But  I  believe  I  can  divine  something  of  her  character." 

"I  hope  you  do  not  misjudge  your  powers,  my  dear  lord," 
said  Elizabeth  with  an  irony  in  her  voice  which  had  no 
effect  upon  her  listener.  "Why,  I  will  tell  you  a  thing  she 
was  saying  but  a  little  while  before  your  entry.  She  was 
saying  that  what  she  would  like  best  in  the  world  would 
be  the  command  of  unlimited  money  and  the  liberty  to  do 
exactly  as  she  liked." 

My  lord  smiled  faintly. 

"Did  she  indeed  say  that?  It  is  a  wish,  I  fancy,  that 
has  been  entertained  by  a  good  many  young  women  since 
the  world  began.  The  meaning  of  such  a  wish  depends 
upon  its  execution  when  the  wisher  has  the  power  to 
execute  it." 

"I  see  you  are  an  obstinate  dog,"  the  Queen  said,  "and 
very  much  set  upon  your  dainty  quarry.  Well,  go  your 
way  and  win  your  damsel  with  my  free  consent  and  coun- 
tenance. But  you  must  not  talk  in  my  presence  of  drawing 
swords  and  fighting  duels  for  you  know  well  that  these  are 
errors  of  which  we  sternly  disapprove." 

She  did  not  look  stern,  however,  as  she  rose  from  her 
seat  to  signify  to  my  lord  that  his  audience  had  come  to 
an  end.  There  was  a  humorous  smile  on  her  lips,  but  in 
her  strange  eyes  there  lurked  an  unfamiliar  kindness,  an 
unfamiliar  pity :  kindness  for  the  old  friend  and  faithful 
servant  who  had  the  good  sense  to  ask  so  small  a  reward, 
pity  for  the  hard  rubs  which,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  fortune 
had  inevitably  in  store  for  him. 

My  lord  dropped  easily  on  one  knee,  and  taking  his  sov- 
ereign's hand  lifted  it  to  his  lips. 

"I  thank  your  Majesty  with  all  my  heart,"  he  said,  and 
there  was  a  straightforwardness  in  his  voice  which  was 
better  than  more  florid  assurances.  Then  with  another  pro- 
found bow  he  quitted  the  presence,  leaving  his  Queen 
standing  and  staring  after  him  with  a  smiling  mouth  and  a 
puzzled  brow. 


CHAPTER   V 

WORLDLY   WISDOM 

FOR  a  little  while  after  the  departure  of  my  lord 
Godalming  the  Queen  remained  standing  with  a  queer 
smile  on  her  lips  and  queer  thoughts  in  her  mind.  Then  she 
moved  slowly  towards  the  door  through  which  the  maids  of 
honour  had  retreated,  as  if  to  summon  them  back.  As  if 
suddenly  restrained  by  second  and  better  thoughts  she 
turned  to  the  table  that  carried  the  guava  jelly  and  with 
some  rapid  play  of  her  silver  spoon  made  away  with  the 
major  portion  of  that  sweetmeat.  She  wiped  her  lips  gin- 
gerly— on  account  of  the  colour  they  carried — with  a  sigh 
of  satisfaction,  and  then  crossing  the  room  anew  opened 
the  door  of  communication  with  the  room  in  which  the 
maids  were  penned. 

The  maids  inside  the  room  huddled  together  at  the  far 
end  and  tattling  in  whispers  saw  the  door  open  and  poised 
for  a  run  expectant  to  be  summoned  in  a  body  to  their 
royal  playmate's  side.  To  their  surprise,  however,  they 
heard  the  voice  of  Elizabeth  call  but  one  of  their  number 
and  that  one  Clarenda  Constant.  Her  three  companions 
stared  at  her  in  surprise. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  whispered  one.  "You 
are  in  for  a  wigging,"  sniggered  another,  and  "Are  you 
to  be  chief  favourite?"  queried  a  third. 

Clarenda  shook  her  pretty  head  in  sign  of  her  own  in- 
ability to  understand  this  special  command  and  then  with 
something  of  a  stir  in  her  heart,  for  like  every  one  else  she 
was  afraid  of  the  great  Queen,  she  entered  the  neighbour- 
ing room,  fearing  a  reprimand.  It  is  true  that  she  was  not 
conscious  of  having  committed  any  offence,  but  the  humour 
of  Elizabeth  was  so  capricious  in  its  manifestations  that 
no  one  ever  knew  what  to  expect  at  her  hands.  She  saw  at 
once  however  that  the  Queen  had  a  smile  on  her  face  of 
45 


46  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

positive  amiability  as  well  as  of  covert  compassion  and  her 
spirits  lifted. 

"Come  here,  child,"  said  the  Queen  graciously.  "I  have 
a  word  or  two  for  your  private  ear." 

She  was  about  to  seat  herself  and  was  actually  motioning 
to  Clarenda  to  take  a  place  by  her  side  when  an  idea  seemed 
suddenly  to  occur  to  her.  She  moved  with  greater  celerity 
than  might  have  been  expected  to  the  door  of  communica- 
tion and  opened  it.  The  sisterkins,  as  if  moved  by  a 
common  purpose,  had  begun  to  go  softly  a-tiptoe  across 
the  floor.  But  when  the  door  suddenly  gaped  and  the  head 
of  Elizabeth  appeared  in  the  opening,  observing  them  with 
a  malicious  grin,  the  young  women  stood  as  if  turned  to 
stone,  while  the  Medusa-head  that  had  petrified  them  spoke. 

"I  thought  as  much,"  the  Queen  said  drily.  "No  listen- 
ing at  my  doors  if  you  please,  young  women.  You  will 
each  of  you  be  so  good  as  to  learn  the  third  chapter  of 
Saint  Augustine's  Confessions  by  heart  before  I  see  you 
again.  You  will  find  the  book  yonder  in  the  alcove." 

Then  the  royal  head  disappeared  and  the  routed  maidens 
retreated  in  disorder  to  the  distant  couch  and  the  mutual 
study  of  the  specified  saint.  The  Queen  came  back  to 
Clarenda  wheezing  a  little  from  her  exertion,  but  laughing 
between  her  wheezes. 

"The  jades,"  she  said  gaily,  "the  baggages.  I  guessed 
their  intention.  But  they  shall  not  steal  a  march  upon 
me.  I  have  been  young  myself" — she  hastily  corrected 
herself — "I  have  been  younger,  and  know  the  convenience 
of  a  keyhole.  But  we  will  sit  out  of  ear-shot." 

She  took  the  perplexed  Clarenda  by  the  hand  and  led 
her  to  the  window-seat  where  the  pair  sat  side  by  side. 
Clarenda  was  trying  in  vain  to  guess  what  all  this  might 
portend. 

"My  child,"  Elizabeth  said,  "have  you  ever  given  a 
thought  to  getting  married?" 

Clarenda  got  very  red,  for  the  thought  had  occurred  to 
her  as  a  possibility  in  the  case  of  more  than  one  attentive 
Court  gentleman  whose  attentions  had  not  however  yet 
taken  the  form  of  any  definite  proposal.  Most  especially 
in  the  case  of  one  attentive  Court  gentleman. 

"I  see  you  have,"  the  Queen  said  a  little  sourly,  noting 


WORLDLY  WISDOM  47 

the  girl's  colour.  "That  is  ever  the  way  with  girls  nowa- 
days. For  my  own  part  as  you  know  I  have  preferred 
the  virgin  state  though  I  have  been  more  besought  in 
marriage  than  any  queen  in  Christendom.  However,  we 
cannot  all  think  the  same  and  the  world  must  be  peopled." 

This  somewhat  blunt  way  of  considering  the  subject 
rather  embarrassed  Clarenda,  and  her  embarrassment  was 
not  decreased  when  the  Queen,  as  if  recollecting  something 
she  had  forgotten,  fell  a-laughing  violently  and  exclaimed : 
"Not  in  this  instance,  though !"  Clarenda  did  not  under- 
stand but  she  guessed  that  the  intention  was  skittish. 

The  Queen  made  an  end  of  her  hilarity  as  suddenly  as 
she  had  begun  it. 

"Well,"  she  continued,  "now  the  time  has  come  for  giving 
a  second  thought  to  the  subject.  What  would  you  say 
if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  I  have  a  suitor  in  hand  for  you?" 

The  Queen  eyed  Clarenda  as  she  spoke,  with  her  head 
on  one  side  like  a  parrot,  and  with  such  an  odd  mixture 
of  roguishness  and  pity  in  her  glance  that  poor  Clarenda 
was  quite  put  about  and  bewildered. 

"Indeed,  your  Majesty,"  she  managed  to  stammer,  "I  do 
not  know  what  to  say." 

"Nonsense,"  said  the  Queen  sharply,  "all  girls  know 
what  to  say  when  their  marriage  is  talked  of.  I  know 
what  to  say  and  my  answer  always  is :  'No,  I  thank  you.' 
But  most  maids  have  an  itch  for  the  ring  and  the  kissing, 
so  speak  up,  sisterkin,  and  spare  me  these  preambles." 

"I  mean,  your  Majesty,"  pleaded  Clarenda,  "that  I  know 
not  what  to  say  until  your  Majesty  is  pleased  to  be  more 
definite." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  want  to  know  the  name  of  your 
suitor-man?"  asked  the  Queen  with  some  asperity. 

That  was  exactly  what  Clarenda  did  mean,  and  she  mur- 
mured a  "Yes,  your  Majesty"  faintly.  There  was  a  wild 
hope  in  her  heart  that  her  Majesty  was  about  to  name  a 
certain  name. 

"There  is  no  need  to  beat  about  the  bush  in  this  business," 
said  the  Queen.  "My  lord  of  Godalming  asks  for  your 
hand." 

My  lord  of  Godalming!  A  sudden  earthquake,  shaking 
the  strong  foundations  of  the  palace  and  pitching  the 


48  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

reeling  walls  upon  her,  could  not  have  more  astounded 
Clarenda.  My  lord  of  Godalming,  the  old,  the  wise,  the 
frigid,  the  precise,  my  lord  of  Godalming  with  years  enough 
easily  to  be  her  grandfather,  my  lord  of  Godalming  with 
whom  she  had  scarcely  ever  exchanged  a  word  and  never 
a  glance,  my  lord  of  Godalming  who  seemed  as  remote 
from  her  youth  and  freshness  as  any  of  the  ancestral  pic- 
tures in  the  great  gallery,  my  lord  of  Godalming  who  was 
alive  in  the  reign  of  King  Henry  the  eighth,  and  very 
likely  of  King  Henry  the  seventh  for  that  matter !  Clarenda 
peeped  at  the  Queen's  face  to  see  if  she  were  making  game 
of  her,  indulging  in  some  cryptic  jest  at  her  expense.  But 
the  Queen's  wrinkled  face  was  by  now  rigid  with  gravity. 
A  thought  occurred  to  the  bewildered  maid,  and  she  faltered 
it  into  words. 

"For  his  nephew,  your  Majesty?"  she  questioned  in  a 
voice  that  sounded  like  a  prayer.  At  least  my  lord  of 
Godalming's  nephew  was  a  young  man  though  he  was  not 
much  to  Clarenda's  liking.  The  Queen  rapped  out  a  full- 
blooded  Tudor  oath. 

"Who  is  talking  of  nephews?"  she  said.  "When  I  name 
a  name,  I  mean  that  name.  My  lord  of  Godalming  does 
you  the  honour  to  solicit  your  hand  in  marriage,  though 
devil  take  me  if  I  can  understand  why  he  does  so." 

Clarenda  sat  for  an  age  as  it  seemed  to  her,  though  it 
was  but  a  poor  few  seconds,  in  a  silence  of  stone.  My 
lord  of  Godalming  wanted  to  marry  her,  wanted  to  clasp 
her  freshness  in  his  withered  arms,  to  hold  her  loveliness 
to  his  faded  breast.  It  was  terrible  but  also  it  was  very 
wonderful,  for  my  lord  was  one  of  the  greatest  nobles  in 
England,  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  the  realm,  one  of 
the  most  famous  soldiers  and  statesmen  of  the  age.  For 
all  that  her  birth  was  good,  she  was  as  compared  with  him 
no  better  than  a  butterwoman.  It  was  little  less  marvellous 
than  being  sought  in  marriage  by  a  crowned  head.  She 
glanced  piteously  at  the  Queen. 

"What  does  your  Majesty  wish  me  to  do?"  she  bleated. 

Elizabeth  gave  a  snort  of  contempt. 

"What  do  I  wish  you  to  do?  God  have  mercy,  mistress, 
have  you  no  brains  of  your  own  in  your  skull  or  no  guts 
of  your  own  in  your  body?  It  is  not  I  that  my  lord  of 


WORLDLY  WISDOM  49 

Godalming  solicits  in  marriage,  though  of  course  he  would 
have  done  so  long  ago  if  he  had  been  fool  enough  to  believe 
that  he  had  the  least  glimmer  of  hope.  It  is  you  I  tell  you, 
idiot,  to  whom  he  is  doing  this  great  honour,  and  you 
gape  at  me  like  a  dead  fish  and  ask  what  I  would  have 
you  do." 

"I  beseech  your  Majesty  not  to  be  angry  with  me," 
Clarenda  entreated,  "but  I  am  young  and  inexperienced, 
and  would  naturally  be  fain  to  have  your  Majesty's  advice 
in  so  grave  a  matter." 

This  was  not  the  happiest  way  of  appealing  to  the 
Queen's  sympathies,  and  the  frown  on  Elizabeth's  face 
proclaimed  the  fact. 

"I  am  not  so  old  and  experienced  as  you  are  pleased  to 
pretend,"  she  said  sourly.  The  thin  trickle  of  her  fountain 
of  pity  was  now  dried  up  by  the  sirocco  of  irritation. 
"If  I  were  in  your  shoes,  which  let  me  tell  you  are  pretty 
ragged  ones,  and  woefully  down  at  heel,  and  I  were  aware 
of  a  brood  of  hungry  birds  in  the  home-nest,  I  should  thank 
Heaven  on  my  knees  for  such  a  suitor." 

In  her  sad  little  heart  Clarenda  knew  that  the  Queen 
spoke  sound  good  sense  according  to  the  wisdom  of  the 
world.  Come  yesterday,  it  would  have  as  soon  occurred  to 
her  to  be  married  to  the  King  of  France  as  to  the  great 
English  peer  and  statesman.  Her  own  uncertain  ambitions 
had  veered  in  a  far  more  modest  direction.  In  a  staggering 
flash  she  saw  all  that  this  new  thing  would  mean  to  her, 
saw  that  it  would  be  madness  to  decline,  to  deny.  Still 
she  boggled  a  little  at  the  certainty,  weakly. 

"Does  your  Majesty  advise "  she  began,  but  the 

Queen  cut  her  short  very  briskly. 

"My  Majesty  advises  nothing,"  she  said  emphatically. 
"If  you  are  ass  enough  not  to  know  what  it  means  when 
a  fortune  beyond  your  dreams  or  your  deserts  is  laid  at 
your  feet,  it  is  not  for  me  to  try  and  mend  your  folly.  You 
must  make  up  your  mind  for  yourself  if  you  have  a  mind 
to  make  up." 

There  was  a  small  measure  of  silence  in  the  room.  The 
two  women  still  sat  close  together,  the  young  woman 
with  her  eyes  on  the  toes  of  her  shoes,  as  if  she  sought 
counsel  from  those  simple  oracles,  the  elder  woman  watch- 


50  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

ing  her  companion  and  pitying  her  and  despising  her  and 
envying  her. 

Presently  the  great  Queen  clapped  her  hands  together 
so  sharply  that  the  concussion  sounded  through  the  room 
like  the  crack  of  a  pistol  shot. 

"Enough  of  consideration,"  she  said  decisively.  "Tell 
me  at  once  what  answer  I  shall  deliver  to  my  lord  of 
Godalming." 

Clarenda  lifted  a  dreary  face  to  the  Queen.  There  were 
tears  in  her  eyes  but  she  kept  them  there  and  would  not 
let  them  brim  over  on  to  her  cheeks.  A  rapid  review  of  her 
case  had  made  it  plain  to  her  with  a  poignancy  of  insis- 
tence that  there  was  only  the  one  thing  possible  for  her  to 
do  under  her  hard  conditions. 

"Will  your  Majesty  be  so  good,"  she  said  as  steadily  as 
she  could  manage,  "as  to  tell  my  lord  Godalming  that  I 
am  more  honoured  than  I  can  say  by  his  proffer,  and  that  I 
am  his  humble  servant  to  command." 

"That's  a  sensible  lass,"  said  Elizabeth.  She  gave  the 
girl  a  push  on  the  shoulder  that  came  nigh  to  overbalance 
her  and  fling  her  to  the  floor.  "Now  hasten  to  your 
chamber  and  cry  out  the  cry  your  head  is  a-swimming  with, 
and  look  to  it  that  you  do  not  come  before  me  again  save 
with  a  smiling  face." 


CHAPTER   VI 

PAINTED  FULL  OF  TONGUES 

f  INHERE  was  a  hubbub  in  the  microcosm  that  is  called 
A  a  Court  on  the  day  when  the  news  was  bruited  abroad 
that  my  lord  Godalming  had  offered  the  greatness  of  his 
name  to  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant.  In  hall  and  corridor, 
in  chamber  and  ante-chamber,  in  alcove  and  nook,  in  the 
embrasures  of  deep  windows,  on  wide  stairs  and  narrow 
stairs,  in  porches  and  doorways,  in  gardens  and  out-houses, 
nothing  else  was  talked  about.  Faces,  pale  or  red  with 
excitement,  according  to  the  physical  humours  of  their 
owners,  stared  into  faces  likewise  pale  or  red,  as  the  quiver- 
ing lips  volleyed  the  inevitable  question,  "Have  you  heard 
the  news?"  There  was  no  one  from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest,  from  my  lord  Privy  Seal  to  my  lad  Page  of  the 
Buttery,  that  was  not  amazed  to  hear  the  story  and  alert 
to  transmit  it.  So  swiftly  did  the  tidings  spread  through 
the  Court  that  many  of  its  messengers  speeding  their  round 
in  breathless  heat  of  delivery  told  their  tale  a  second  time 
to  one  at  a  back  door  whose  ear  they  had  already  enriched 
with  the  business  a  few  minutes  before  at  the  front  door. 

The  once  languid  air  hummed.  Nimble  young  ladies 
picked  up  their  petticoats  and  ran  as  if  for  their  lives  to 
tell  their  dearest  friend.  Brisk  young  gentlemen  and  obese 
elderly  gentlemen  competed  after  the  manner  of  the  hare 
and  the  tortoise.  It  was  a  stirring  time. 

At  first  the  world  of  Court  was  frankly  incredulous.  Was 
it  conceivable  that  a  noble  of  such  age  and  gravity  as  my 
lord  Godalming  should  seriously  intend  at  his  time  of  life 
to  wed  with  a  grig  of  but  twenty,  a  chit,  a  minx?  Surely 
my  lord  Godalming  had  too  much  wisdom,  too  much 
philosophy,  too  much  respect  for  convention  and  decorum 
and  the  decencies  to  commit  such  an  act  of  folly.  But 
when  presently  it  was  confirmed  with  so  much  circumstance 


52  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

that  there  seemed  little  freedom  left  for  incredulity,  then 
the  more  knowing  of  the  courtiers  began  to  wag  their  heads 
and  tap  their  noses  or  their  foreheads  and  to  treat  the  news 
with  hilarity.  There  was  much  grinning  and  sniggering  on 
the  part  of  the  men,  much  giggling  and  tittering  on  the 
part  of  the  women.  Not  indeed  in  the  presence  of  my  lord 
of  Godalming.  What  he  had  said  to  the  Queen  was  quite 
true  and  well  calculated  to  make  impertinence  air  a  mask 
of  politeness  on  the  part  of  the  men  when  my  lord  passed 
by.  On  the  part  of  the  women  too ;  for  with  all  his  gravity 
of  courtesy  there  could  be  a  sternness  in  his  carriage  and  a 
sharpness  in  his  speech  of  which  the  flightiest  damsel  might 
well  stand  in  awe.  But  behind  his  back  surely  there  must 
be  ample  licence  for  jocularity,  and  the  Court  was  preparing 
for  such  jocoseness  when  a  fresh  piece  of  news  came  blow- 
ing about  the  passages  which  froze  the  merriment  on  their 
lips. 

It  seemed  that  her  Majesty  not  merely  sanctioned  the 
match  but  honoured  it  with  her  hearty  approval,  and  had, 
it  further  seemed,  made  it  plain  in  speech  that  those  who 
wished  to  stand  well  in  her  favour  would  be  wise  to  share 
her  view  of  the  matter.  Whereupon  everybody  veered 
round  with  astonishing  celerity  and  declared  with  no  less 
astonishing  unanimity,  that  the  proposed  nuptials  were 
altogether  admirable  and  ideal  and  delightful. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  fluster  who  so  cool  or  so  wise  or 
so  silent  as  Jock  Holiday?  He  stood  statue-like  to  be 
beaten  upon  by  all  the  winds  of  rumour,  all  the  tongues  of 
question,  and  like  the  god  Harpocrates  sealed  the  lips  of 
knowledge  with  the  finger  of  discretion.  Of  course  he  knew 
the  truth ;  of  course  every  one  knew  that  he  knew  the  truth, 
but  he  would  still  keep  mum  with  an  air  of  surly  noncha- 
lance that  was  very  irritating  to  the  Court.  Yet  in  the  end 
it  was  he  who,  when  the  genteel  mob  had  decided  that  the 
Queen  must  certainly  disapprove  of  the  betrothal,  routed  it 
into  ignominious  retreat  with  the  assurance,  which  from  his 
mouth  was  nothing  less  than  oracular,  that  my  lord  of 
Godalming  had  the  Queen's  very  good  will  in  the  business. 

Through  all  this  clutter  and  murmur  my  lord  of  Godal- 
ming stalked  as  serenely  as  if  nothing  were  occurring  at  all 
out  of  the  ordinary.  His  face  wore  its  habitual  austere 


PAINTED  FULL  OF  TONGUES  53 

composure ;  his  demeanour  showed  no  change  in  its  familiar 
pride.  It  did  not  indeed  seem  that  ridicule  could  in  any 
wise  attach  itself  to  that  stately  presence,  and  those  who 
regarded  him  were  almost  forced  to  admit  that  it  might 
indeed  be  a  judicious  thing  for  a  gentleman  of  seventy  to 
wed  a  maid  of  twenty.  On  thinking  it  over  the  old  doubts 
would  return  and  they  would  shake  their  heads  and  purse 
their  lips.  But  their  doubts  did  not  trouble  my  lord,  though 
he  was  surely  well  aware  of  them,  and  he  saw  nothing  of 
the  head-shakings  and  the  mouth-pursings. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  Queen,  having  once  given 
her  consent,  acted  with  generosity  in  the  giving.  She  did, 
as  has  been  seen,  make  it  known  that  she  approved  and 
that  she  expected  her  friends  to  share  her  approval ;  and 
she  did  this  with  a  show  of  whole-heartedness  that  im- 
pressed itself  upon  the  courtiers  like  a  seal-royal  upon  wax. 
Never  by  the  slightest  hint  of  change  of  tone  or  counte- 
nance did  she  allow  any  of  those  that  came  nearest  her 
to  presume  to  suspect  that  she  did  not  mean  what  she 
said. 

Perhaps  something  of  the  secret  of  the  Queen's  suavity 
was  to  be  found  in  two  facts,  neither  of  which  was  a  secret 
to  Jock  Holiday,  if  it  was  a  secret  to  the  rest  of  the  world. 
The  first  fact  was  that  her  Majesty,  for  all  her  show  of 
friendship  and  admiration,  had  in  the  heart  of  her  heart 
very  little  real  liking  for  Clarenda  Constant.  But  there  was 
a  second  fact  known  to  Jock  Holiday,  if  to  but  few  others 
— no  more  it  may  be  than  three — and  that  second  fact  was 
the  existence  of  a  certain  young  gentleman  at  Court,  the 
very  young  gentleman  who  fluttered  into  Clarenda's 
thoughts  so  tumultuously  when  her  Majesty  broke  the 
tidings  of  my  lord  Godalming's  odd  wooing.  This  young 
gentleman  was  Sir  Batty  Sellars,  a  scion  of  an  ancient 
house  that  had  managed  to  inscribe  the  names  of  its  off- 
spring upon  the  pay-list  of  royal  purses  through  many 
generations  with  no  fastidious  regard  to  any  other  auspice 
than  the  favouring  wind. 

There  had  frequently  if  not  incessantly  been  a  Batty 
Sellars — the  family  liked  the  Christian  name,  for  it  came 
from  a  property  into  which  they  had  married — playing  his 
petty  part  in  the  background  of  history.  The  Sellars  were 


54  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

great  in  the  art  of  office-holding  and  the  name  occurs  pa- 
tiently from  the  days  of  the  third  Edward. 

The  present  Sir  Batty  was  a  young  gentleman  of  small 
estate  and  great  appetites  who,  thanks  to  a  handsome  face, 
a  fine  body  and  remarkably  good  fortune  at  cards,  managed 
to  cut  a  pretty  figure  at  Court.  He  held  there  a  small 
office  under  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  that  of  the  Master  of 
the  Lesser  Revels,  which,  though  its  duties  and  privileges 
were  very  vague  and  undetermined,  afforded  him  occa- 
sional opportunities  for  obliging  or  disobliging,  as  the  case 
might  be,  and  so  enriched  him  with  a  kind  of  false  influence 
and  importance.  Many  women  had  liked  him,  but  few 
indeed  liked  him  for  long  or  failed  to  regret  that  they  had 
ever  liked  him  a  little.  Men  of  a  kindred  temperament 
got  on  with  him  well  enough  when  they  were  content  to 
accept  his  supremacy.  For  the  rest  he  took,  or  thought  he 
took,  a  large  and  philosophic  view  of  life,  but  he  affected 
to  be  engrossed  by  trifles,  which  was  politic  as  it  served  to 
make  him  Master  of  the  Lesser  Revels. 

The  ladies  of  the  Court  admired  Sir  Batty  Sellars  in  vary- 
ing degrees  of  admiration.  Perhaps  if  Jock  Holiday  had 
condescended  to  unlock  his  heart  he  would  have  hinted 
that  the  greatest  admiration  was  given  by  the  greatest 
lady,  and  that  no  eyes  grew  warmer  than  the  old  brown 
Tudor  eyes  when  they  rested  upon  the  gracious  face  and 
shapely  body  of  Sir  Batty  Sellars.  It  is  not  impossible 
that  Sir  Batty  himself  may  have  had  some  inkling  of  the 
favourable  impression  that  he  made  upon  a  heart  that  still 
responded  to  emotions,  above  those  vast  hoops  and  be- 
neath the  pyramids  of  ridiculous  wigs.  If  he  had  he  was 
careful  not  to  presume  upon  the  possibility.  Like  every 
other  gentleman  at  Court  he  assumed  that  he  was  the  joyful 
victim  of  a  tragic  and  yet  enchanting  passion  for  the  divine 
Gloriana.  But  though  Sir  Batty  was  quite  aware  of  the 
value  of  his  Sovereign's  favour,  he  was  also  aware  of  its 
disadvantages,  and  he  was  not  willing  to  risk  collision  with 
the  recognised  favourite  unless  he  was  sure  of  his  game. 
This  was  very  characteristic  of  Sir  Batty,  who  was  of  all 
things  a  gamester,  and  of  that  especial  kind  who  never  play 
unless  they  are  pretty  sure  of  winning,  and  who  generally 
manage  to  win. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SIR    BATTY    HEARS    NEWS 

ON  the  afternoon  of  the  day  on  which  my  lord  of 
Godalming  had  paid  his  visit  to  the  Queen  and  made 
his  amazing  request  Sir  Batty  Sellars  was  seated  at  cards 
in  his  apartment  in  the  palace,  for  by  virtue  of  his  office 
he  occupied  a  small  set  of  rooms  at  Court.  He  was  enjoying 
himself  with  a  fullness  of  enjoyment  which  made  no  mark 
upon  the  trained  tranquillity  of  his  handsome  face,  for  he 
was  winning  more  heavily  than  usual  in  the  pastime  at 
which  it  was  his  familiar  habit  to  win.  His  companion  was 
a  wealthy  young  squireen  from  the  West  Country  and  a 
distant  kinsman  of  his  own,  Master  John  Willoughby,  of 
Willoughby  Homing,  in  the  Tavistock  region.  He  was  now 
on  a  first  visit  to  London  and  tasting  its  delights  under 
the  patronage  of  Sir  Batty,  whom  as  a  matter  of  course  he 
regarded  as  little  less  than  a  demigod. 

To  this  pair,  thus  employed  and  indifferent  to  the  fair 
day  outside  the  windows,  came  in  a  hurry  Sir  Batty's  very 
particular  friend  Master  Spencer  Winwood,  with  a  counte- 
nance that  flamed  with  information. 

Sir  Batty  played  his  card  with  judgment  before  he  lifted 
his  head  in  salutation  to  his  friend.  Jack  Willoughby, 
disturbed  by  the  intrusion,  played  badly  and  lost  the  round. 
Sir  Batty's  practised  hand  covered  the  stakes  and  swept 
them  into  his  pocket  while  his  dark  inscrutable  eyes,  fixed 
on  the  intruder's  face,  read  news  there. 

"What  ails  you,  Spencer?"  he  asked,  with  that  affecta- 
tion of  languor  which  he  wore  like  a  feather  or  a  jewel,  as  a 
grace  to  his  virile  beauty  and  strong  person.  "Why  do 
you  come  tumbling  into  my  room  as  if  it  were  a  tavern 
parlour  and  put  honest  gentlemen  off  their  game?" 

He  indicated  with  a  jerk  of  his  head  Willoughby  who, 
55 


56  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

with  his  jolly  red  countryfied  face  a  little  drawn  and 
puckered  with  calculation,  and  his  hands  deep  in  his 
breeches  pockets,  was  looking  somewhat  ruefully  at  the 
disappointing  cards. 

"I  carry  news  that  may  interest  you,"  answered  the  new- 
comer, "but  it  is  for  your  private  ear,"  he  added  in  response 
to  Sir  Batty's  brief  suggestion  to  say  his  say. 

"Oh,"  said  Sir  Batty,  who  had  followed  his  friend's 
glance  at  the  disconsolate  gambler,  "you  may  say  what 
you  like  in  this  gentleman's  presence.  He  is  my  very  good 
friend  and  he  shall  be  yours,  I  trust.  Master  John  Wil- 
loughby,  this  is  Master  Spencer  Winwood,  my  lord  Bolton's 
son." 

The  two  men  thus  presented  saluted  one  another,  Spencer 
Winwood  with  indifference  and  the  other  with  the  pleased 
look  of  one  that  feels  he  is  moving  in  very  good  society. 

"And  now,"  said  Sir  Batty  as  he  methodically  gathered 
and  shuffled  the  cards,  "what  is  this  news  you  are  so  big 
with?" 

"It  would  inflate  a  bigger  man  than  myself,"  answered 
Winwood,  "and  it  should  stagger  you,  or  I  am  mistook. 
My  lord  Godalming  solicits  the  hand  in  marriage  of  Mis- 
tress Clarenda  Constant." 

Sir  Batty  received  that  statement  with  a  wholly  unmoved 
countenance  and  his  fine  hands  continued  their  task  of 
mixing  the  cards  as  steadily  as  if  they  were  of  more  interest 
to  him  than  the  tidings  he  had  just  heard — which  they  were 
not. 

"Young  man,  I  think  you're  lying,"  he  said,  lightly 
parodying  a  line  from  the  ballad  of  "Barbara  Allen,"  but 
in  his  mind  he  hoped  otherwise.  Instantly  Spencer  Win- 
wood  was  hot  in  confirmation. 

"Indeed  and  indeed  it  is  true,"  he  protested.  "Like 
yourself  I  was  sceptic  at  first,  for  the  thing  seemed  un- 
believable. But  I  made  bold  to  ask  Jock  Holiday  with 
whom  I  chance  to  be  on  good  terms  and  he  gave  me  the 
nod.  It  is  true  as  true.  My  lord  has  asked  and  had  the 
Queen's  permission  to  marry  the  lass." 

Sir  Batty  gave  a  prolonged  whistle.  Mr.  Winwood 
seemed  gratified  that  his  news  had  produced  its  effect. 
Master  Willoughby,  as  a  stranger,  begged  to  be  informed 


SIR  BATTY  HEARS  NEWS  57 

why  the  matter  was  of  such  moment  as  to  be  worth  while 
interrupting  a  good  game. 

"Tell  him,  Spencer,"  commanded  Sir  Batty,  with  his 
chin  on  his  breast.  He  was  evidently  thinking  hard  and 
seemed  not  displeased  with  his  thoughts.  Spencer  Winwood 
turned  to  Willoughby  with  a  slightly  supercilious  affability. 

"You  must  know,"  he  said,  "that  Mistress  Clarenda 
Constant  is  one  of  the  comeliest  maids,  if  not  the  comeliest 
maid,  at  Court.  It  should  not  therefore  surprise  you,  as 
you  have  the  honour  to  be  acquainted  with  Sir  Batty,  that 
the  young  lady  has  been  fortunate  enough  to  earn  the 
approval  of  our  friend." 

Jack  Willoughby  glanced  at  Sir  Batty  with  very  honest 
and  open  admiration  and  generous  envy.  He  thought  him, 
and  rightly  thought  him,  one  of  the  handsomest  men  in 
the  world  and  one  of  the  most  accomplished  in  all  the  arts 
that  go  to  the  making  of  the  complete  gentleman.  Spencer 
Winwood  continued  his  tale. 

"Sellars  has  a  winning  way" — Willoughby  thought  of 
the  game  and  nodded  involuntarily — "and  he  is  already 
far  in  the  girl's  graces.  But  because  she  is  of  a  simple 
rusticity  she  believes  that  he  woos  her  to  be  his  wife, 
which  indeed  is  very  far  from  his  purpose." 

Now  Mr.  Willoughby  was  at  heart  a  decent  fellow 
enough,  who  in  the  simplicity  of  Willoughby  Homing  had 
always  regarded  fine  ladies  with  a  respectful  shyness  very- 
different  from  the  conduct  of  his  rustic  amours.  But  as  his 
present  ambition  was  to  be  regarded  as  a  sad  dog,  he  mur- 
mured approvingly  that  he  should  think  not  indeed.  Spen- 
cer Winwood  continued  without  noticing  him. 

"Not  that  the  girl  is  unworthy  of  wedlock  if  her  farth- 
ingale covered  a  fortune.  But  she  is  as  poor  as  you  please, 
with  scarce  pin-money  to  buy  herself  smocks,  and  she  can 
only  move  at  Court  through  the  Queen's  bounty.  So  nat- 
urally our  Batty  stalks  the  dainty  game  with  another  pur- 
pose. But  that,  too,  has  its  dangers." 

Mr.  Willoughby  glancing  at  Sir  Batty  as  if  for  enlighten- 
ment on  this  point  and  finding  him  still  absorbed  in  his 
reflections,  addressed  Mr.  Winwood  and  desired  to  be  in- 
formed as  to  the  nature  of  the  dangers  he  referred  to. 

"Why,   you  must  know,"   Winwood   replied,   "that   her 


58  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Majesty  is  a  very  particular  piece  of  virginity,  and  will 
stand  no  trifling  with  the  virtue  of  her  women.  It  would 
be  as  much  as  a  man's  head  were  worth  to  lead  one  of  them 
astray,  wherefore,  as  you  may  guess,  our  Batty  has  in  his 
sense  and  discretion  decided  that  although  the  game  is  well 
worth  some  risk  it  were  wise  under  existing  conditions  to 
go  warily." 

As  before  Mr.  Willoughby  nodded  his  head  and  strove  to 
impart  to  his  broad  countrified  countenance  an  air  at  once 
of  sagacity  and  vice.  Now,  however,  Sir  Batty  chose  to 
break  silence. 

"You  speak  like  an  oracle,  Spencer,"  he  protested,  "but 
if  your  news  be  true,  as  no  doubt  it  is,  then  it  seems  to  me 
that  my  case  has  changed  very  much  for  the  better.  The 
devil  only  knows  what  has  put  it  into  old  Godalming's  head 
to  marry  the  girl.  I  always  took  him  for  an  archangel 
among  patriarchs,  but  I  suppose  dried  flesh  is  a  kind  of 
tinder.  As  for  me,  my  lady  Godalming  will  be  easier  to 
win  to  my  wish  than  the  spinster  Clarenda." 

The  others  cheerfully  agreed  with  this  view  of  the  case ; 
Mr.  Winwood  because  he  understood  the  conditions  and 
Mr.  Willoughby  because  he  did  not.  Then  since,  as  Sir 
Batty  pointed  out,  there  was  nothing  better  for  them  to  do, 
the  party  fell  to  playing  cards  again  and  continued  at  that 
pastime  until  all  Master  Willoughby's  immediate  cash  had 
changed  hands  and  was  snugly  ensconced  in  Sir  Batty's 
pockets.  At  which  point  Sir  Batty  mentioned  that  he  had 
an  appointment  to  keep,  and  politely  but  decisively  showed 
his  guest  the  door.  Mr.  Willoughby  went  out  into  London 
convinced  that  he  had  passed  a  diverting  afternoon  in  very 
excellent  company. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

LOVERS'  MEETINGS 

CLARENDA  CONSTANT  had  not  allowed  herself  to 
form  any  final  judgment  upon  Batty  Sellars  nor  to 
take  any  exact  stock  of  the  state  of  her  own  mind  with 
regard  to  him.  She  was  not  of  an  age  that  troubles  itself 
much  about  final  judgments  or  close  analysis  of  mood. 
When  first  she  came  to  Court  friendless,  save  for  the 
exalted  patronage  of  the  Queen,  a  little  frightened,  not  a 
little  bewildered,  painfully  conscious  of  a  not  over  apparent 
provincialism,  and  of  her  needy  kinsfolk  in  Kent,  she  was, 
according  to  etiquette,  early  presented  to  the  Master  of  the 
Lesser  Revels.  For  her,  coming  like  a  country  bird  out 
of  the  rural  darkness  into  the  courtly  light  and  blinking 
timidly  at  the  illumination,  the  sudden  presentation  to  Sir 
Batty  Sellars  and  his  instant  graciousness  were  wonders 
to  remember.  From  the  first  moment  of  their  meeting  she 
admired  the  splendid  gentleman.  As  she  grew  easy  in  the 
Court  and  familiar  with  its  ways  their  acquaintance  waxed 
into  friendship  and  more  than  friendship.  In  the  begin- 
ning she  had  found  him  most  diverting  company,  but  she 
soon  found  that  he  was  very  much  more  than  merely  divert- 
ing company.  He  aired  a  cynicism  which  was  really  in- 
grain, with  an  air  that  made  it  seem  the  affectation  shielding 
an  earnest  and  sincere  nature  from  the  roughness  and  hard- 
ness of  an  unsympathetic  world.  He  could  jest  with  smiling 
lips  and  sad  eyes  after  a  fashion  that  must  needs  puzzle 
and  trouble  a  girl's  skill-less  heart.  Not  that  he  ever  for  a 
moment  played  the  lackadaisy  or  aimed  to  gain  a  morsel  of 
his  cause  by  the  moving  of  pity.  He  might  pass  anywhere 
for  a  model  courtier;  he  was  a  noted  swordsman  with  a 
wit  as  sharp  as  his  steel,  a  paragon  of  dancers,  a  clever 
musician,  and  he  was  moreover  endowed  with  a  sufficient 
gift  of  rhyme  to  turn  a  madrigal  in  praise  of  a  pretty  lady 
59 


60  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

that  had  almost  the  true  smack  of  Helicon.  Add  to  this 
that  he  was  notorious  for  his  bravery  as  for  his  beauty, 
for  his  gallantries  as  for  his  graces,  and  that  Clarenda 
Constant  had  a  natural  and  commendable  liking  for  comely 
men. 

From  the  first  moment  of  Mistress  Clarenda's  arrival  at 
Court,  Sir  Batty  had  mentally  marked  her  for  his  own.  So 
radiant  was  her  beauty,  so  patent  its  effect  upon  all  who 
witnessed  it,  that  Sir  Batty,  in  whose  composition  vanity 
was  one  of  the  most  vigorous  ingredients,  would  have  been 
quite  willing  to  make  her  my  lady  Sellars,  if  only  the 
splendour  of  her  fortune  had  equalled  the  splendour  of 
her  face.  But  as  it  did  nothing  of  the  kind,  as  in  fact 
Clarenda's  face  was  Clarenda's  fortune,  Sir  Batty  had  to 
reconsider  his  position.  He  took  it  for  granted  that  he 
would  marry  sooner  or  later,  and  it  was  essential  to  his 
sense  of  the  fitness  of  things,  in  a  world  which  in  his  view 
pivoted  upon  Batty  Sellars,  that  dame  Sellars  should  be 
surpassing  fair.  To  do  Sir  Batty  justice  he  would  not 
have  wedded  ugliness  with  the  wealth  of  Ind  behind  her. 
The^thought  that  his  wife  could  be  other  than  the  ideal  of 
admiration  and  desire  simply  revolted  him.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  beauty  alone — were  it  the  beauty  of  Helen  or 
Semiramis  or  Cleopatra — was  of  no  use  without  accom- 
panying lucre  to  a  young  gentleman  of  meagre  patrimony 
who  eked  out  his  slender  appointment  at  Court  by  the 
dexterity,  or  rather  the  spirit  of  divination,  with  which  he 
played  cards. 

So  when  he  recognised  that  Mistress  Clarenda,  if  indeed 
a  goddess,  would  have  to  be  worshipped  as  the  goddess 
of  poverty,  he  quietly  flung  marriage  from  the  calculations 
of  his  game  and  set  himself  to  consider  how  he  might 
otherwise,  and  without  inconvenience,  obtain  possession  of 
the  young  lady's  affections.  The  thought  "without  incon- 
venience," represented  an  important  clause  in  his  charter. 
While  he  relied  upon  himself  very  confidently  to  overcome 
any  Puritan  scruples  with  which  the  young  lady  might  be 
burdened,  he  knew  also  that  he  could  rely  upon  the  Queen 
to  resent  very  fiercely  and  to  punish  very  severely  the 
offender  who  was  the  cause  of  any  kind  of  public  scandal 
concerning  one  of  the  maids  of  honour. 


LOVERS'  MEETINGS  61 

He  was  indeed  very  much  of  a  favourite  with  the  Queen, 
but  he  was  too  well  versed  in  the  history  of  Court  favour- 
ites in  general  and  of  Elizabeth's  favourites  in  particular 
to  be  sure  of  the  safety  of  his  head  if  the  anger  of  the 
virgin  Gloriana  were  once  aroused.  Wherefore  he  decided 
to  pick  his  path  warily,  with  a  gay  patience,  and  to  lose  no 
opportunity  of  establishing  himself  in  the  thoughts  of  his 
coveted  quarry.  He  was  a  great  believer  in  the  waiting 
game,  whether  with  the  playing  cards  of  the  painted  pack 
or  the  playing  cards  that  are  called  men  and  women. 

His  waiting  game  won  him  a  very  prominent  place  in 
Mistress  Clarenda's  imagination.  He  was  at  once  so  de- 
voted and  so  gallant;  his  proclaimed  tenor  of  chivalry  was 
broken  by  such  happy  snatches  of  audacity  either  asserted 
or  suggested ;  he  could  look  so  much  while  saying  so  little 
that  he  presented  himself  to  the  girl's  flighty  fancy  as  the 
most  captivating  riddle  in  the  world.  He  easily  made  it 
plain  to  the  maid  that  he  was  tropically  in  love  with  her; 
yet  while  the  delicious  intimacy  at  once  increased  and 
became  more  secret  the  attractive  wooer  never  for  a  moment 
translated  his  passion  into  the  formality  of  declaration. 

Clarenda  lived  in  the  delirium  of  residence  on  a  volcano 
while  all  around  her  smiled  a  landscape  of  serenity  and 
beauty.  Of  course  the  silly  minion  had  no  more  idea  of 
what  was  in  the  mind  of  the  man  than  the  bird  in  the  bush 
has  of  the  mind  of  the  cat  that  stalks  it  in  the  covert.  She 
had  come  to  Court  in  a  cloud  of  rustic  ignorange  through 
which  the  future  appeared  as  a  pleasing  perspective  of 
gaieties  and  merry-makings.  These  were  to  persevere  in- 
definitely, but  would  no  doubt  make  an  end  with  some 
wealthy  and  commendable  husband  and  some  snug  manor- 
house  with  a  girdle  of  broad  acres,  that  would  offer  stablish- 
ment  and  shelter  for  needy  kindred. 

But  as  Sir  Batty  was  not  the  only  man  at  Court  so  he 
was  not  Clarenda's  sole  admirer.  She  was  so  amazingly 
fair  to  behold  that  every  eye,  roving  or  steadfast,  was 
attracted  and  every  voice  was  tuned  to  whisper  civilities. 
If  the  Queen  saw  all  this  idolatry  with  a  raging  displeasure 
that  fed  upon  her  liver,  in  such  a  case  she  had  the  will 
and  the  skill  to  keep  her  rancour  to  herself  and  to  beam 
upon  her  sisterkin  with  extravagant  effulgence.  At  least, 


62  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

such  was  Sir  Batty's  skill  and  discretion,  the  Queen  did 
not  suspect  her  Master  of  the  Lesser  Revels  of  any  special 
admiration  for  the  fair  stranger.  It  was  scarcely  to  be 
wondered  at  if  under  such  conditions  the  lovely  head  of 
Clarenda  was  turned  and  her  vanity  so  flattered  that  she 
began  to  develop  into  a  model  of  self-conceit.  She  breathed 
an  atmosphere  of  incense,  she  trod  a  pathway  that  was, 
allegorically  speaking,  carpeted  by  the  mantles  of  gallants 
eager  to  repeat  for  the  Clarenda  of  to-day  what  the  young 
Raleigh  had  ventured  for  the  Elizabeth  of  long  ago.  She 
was  quite  ready  to  take  every  courtier's  tinkling  phrase  for 
the  very  voice  of  Love's  oracle  and  to  believe  herself  the 
comeliest  and  wittiest  she  in  the  universe  just  because  a 
certain  number  of  light-hearted  and  light-headed  young 
gentlemen — without  or  with  sinister  purpose — chose  to  tell 
her  so. 

It  did  not  occur  to  her  to  weigh  seriously  the  fact  that 
none  of  all  this  multitude  of  adorers  converted  his  admira- 
tion into  the  definite  terms  of  a  proposal  of  marriage. 
None,  at  least  that  signified,  none  whose  estate  could  com- 
mand the  consideration  of  a  young  lady  who  had  not  a 
penny  in  her  pocket  and  whose  family  was  in  the  greatest 
straits  to  rub  along  with  any  show  of  gentility.  There 
was,  it  is  true,  Master  Reuben  Peaching,  a  poor  knight's 
son  and  a  small  officer  at  Court,  who  talked  some  nonsense 
about  the  love  of  shepherd  for  shepherdess  and  who  was 
so  heartily  laughed  at  for  his  pains  that  he  left  Court 
in  a  huff  and  voyaged  to  the  Virginias  where,  as  it  turned 
out,  he  did  very  well  and  made  a  pretty  fortune.  There 
was  too  Mr.  Secretary  Brenthal  who  wrote  her  a  number 
of  neat  rhymes  in  the  most  approved  manner  expressing 
the  heat  of  his  passion  with  great  frigidity  of  language  and 
assuring  her — for  he  also  was  poor — that  content  was 
better  than  wealth,  a  doctrine  so  patently  untrue  that 
Clarenda  openly  derided  him  in  her  hoydenish  way  and  in 
consequence  drove  the  young  man  for  a  period  to  the  con- 
solation of  strong  liquor  until  the  rebellion  of  a  weak 
stomach  and  a  weak  head  restored  him  to  his  senses  and 
landed  him  in  wedlock  with  a  ripe  and  ripely  dowered 
spinster. 

It  was  not,  therefore,  until  my  lord  of  Godalming  paid 


LOVERS'  MEETINGS  63 

his  historic  visit  to  the  Queen  and  made  his  amazing  offer 
that  Clarenda  began  for  the  first  time  to  realise  the  lone- 
liness and  the  discomfort  of  her  position.  The  Queen  was 
neither  unwilling  nor  displeased  to  have  an  opportunity, 
under  cover  of  the  giving  of  good  counsel,  of  administering 
a  few  stripes  to  the  shoulders  of  a  girl  who  had  com- 
mitted the  offence  of  being  too  pretty.  Clarenda  saw  the 
force  of  the  Queen's  reasoning  sufficiently  clearly  to  sur- 
render. Her  first  anxiety,  after  quitting  the  presence,  was 
to  see  Sir  Batty  and  tell  him  her  tale.  This  was  no  difficult 
matter  to  bring  about,  for  she  and  he  had  of  late,  by  a  series 
of  consistent  accidents,  contrived  to  meet  and  walk  in  the 
Gilded  Gallery  in  a  vacant  hour  of  each  day's  afternoon. 
This  indeed  was  the  appointment  on  account  of  which  Sir 
Batty  had  sent  Jack  Willoughby  about  his  business.  On 
meeting  in  this  same  gallery  the  pair  never  failed  to  express 
their  surprise  at  the  happy  chance  and  never  failed  to  take 
advantage  of  it  by  straying  into  the  Land  of  Tenderness. 
Sir  Batty  could  be  as  euphuistic  as  the  best,  and  Clarenda 
loved  to  exercise  her  sprightliness  in  a  game  of  wits  that 
was  more  dangerous  than  she  guessed. 

But  to-day  their  encounter,  stripped  of  affectation  by 
surprise,  had  a  more  work-a-day  carriage.  The  maid  was 
agitated,  the  man  was  amazed ;  the  one  was  anxious  to  tell 
what  the  other  was  eager  to  hear.  Hurriedly  they  seated 
themselves  on  a  bench. 

"Sir  Batty,"  cried  Clarenda,  in  a  voice  that  was  suddenly 
free  of  its  wonted  languors  and  laughters,  "Sir  Batty,  have 
you  heard  the  news  ?" 

"I  have  heard  a  piece  of  news,"  Sir  Batty  answered, 
"that  has  much  astonished  me,  and  I  am  hot  to  learn  of  its 
truth  or  falsehood  from  your  lips." 

"It  is  true,"  cried  Clarenda,  "all  too  true.  Your  poor 
little  country  mouse  is  caught  in  a  golden  trap  and  cannot 
get  away  from  it." 

"Then  you  are  to  be  my  lady  Godalming,"  Sir  Batty  said. 
Clarenda  could  not  understand  why  so  little  dissatisfaction 
sounded  in  his  voice.  "You  will  be  one  of  the  greatest 
ladies  in  the  land." 

This  was  not  at  all  the  kind  of  speech  she  had  expected 
to  hear  from  Sir  Batty  and  the  matter  of  it  angered  her. 


64  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  to  me?"  she  cried  sharply, 
and  turned  of  one  side  as  if  she  would  go  her  ways.  Sir 
Batty  perceived  that  he  was  in  danger  of  making  a  mis- 
take. 

"What  can  a  poor  gentleman  like  myself  do  against  the 
fulminations  of  Providence,"  he  pleaded,  with  a  look  of 
such  eloquent  reproach  as  melted  Clarenda's  heart.  "For,  as 
I  have  heard  the  story,  my  lord  of  Godalming  has  not  only 
sought  your  hand,  but  you  have  accorded  it  to  him.  Am  I 
wrong  in  this  latter  particular?" 

Clarenda  shook  her  head.  She  was  very  near  to  crying 
now  because  she  could  not  deny  the  statement.  My  lord 
of  Godalming  seemed  more  ancient  and  dreadable  than 
ever  as  she  contrasted  him  with  Sir  Batty,  in  his  beauty, 
his  youth,  his  grace,  all  his  courtly  charm. 

"What  can  I  do?"  she  answered,  half  sobbing.  "It  is 
a  great  match  and  I  am  a  dowerless  daughter,  and  the 
Queen  favours  my  lord's  proposal  and  tells  me  roundly  that 
I  would  be  a  fool  for  my  pains  if  I  were  not  to  jump  at  it — 
and  so  I  suppose  I  should  be.  And  besides  I  have  to  think 
of  my  family." 

"Perhaps  they  will  not  consent  to  your  making  such  a 
sacrifice,"  Sir  Batty  suggested.  In  his  mind  he  was  very 
sure  that  they  would  consent  very  readily,  but  he  felt  that 
it  was  politic  in  him  to  show  eagerness  for  any  chance. 
Clarenda  shook  her  head. 

"They  will  consent,"  she  said,  "of  course  they  will  con- 
sent. I  take  it  that  they  would  insist  if  I  showed  any  sign 
of  resistance,  and  it  is  no  more  than  God's  truth  that  I 
could  not  blame  them  for  so  doing.  How  would  you  act, 
I  should  like  to  know,  if  the  Queen  suddenly  made  up  her 
mind  to  marry  and  offered  her  royal  hand  to  Sir  Batty 
Sellars." 

Sir  Batty  was  perfectly  sure  that  he  would  clutch  eagerly 
at  the  skinny  fingers,  but  he  looked  a  tender  reproach  at  the 
excited  girl  and  murmured  that,  after  all,  my  lord  of 
Godalming  was  not  a  king. 

"He  is  as  good  as  one  for  me,"  the  girl  persisted.  "I 
dare  be  sworn  that  he  has  more  money  than  some  of  them. 
He  has  boundless  possessions  and,  if  he  chose,  could  enjoy 
the  state  of  an  emperor." 


LOVERS'  MEETINGS  65 

"Ah!"  sighed  Sir  Batty,  with  a  languishing  glance  at 
Clarenda,  "why  have  I  not  this  old  man's  fortune?" 

"Would  you  take  his  years  to  command  it?"  Clarenda 
asked  sadly,  as  her  gaze  lingered  fondly  on  the  attractions 
of  Sir  Batty's  person. 

"Surely  I  would,"  responded  Sir  Batty  ardently,  "if  those 
years  brought  me  the  privilege  that  they  give  him.  For  I 
truly  believe  that  if  I  were  permitted  to  call  you  mine  the 
joy  would  warm  my  wintry  blood  to  the  fervours  of 
spring." 

Poor  Clarenda  found  herself  very  devoutly  hoping  that 
no  such  miracle  would  take  place  in  the  case  of  my  lord 
of  Godalming,  but  she  said  nothing  of  her  thoughts,  though 
a  little  involuntary  shiver  served  to  express  them. 

"Here  am  I,"  urged  Sir  Batty,  "surely  a  most  unhappy 
man.  If  I  were  even  possessed  of  moderate  wealth  I  should 
make  bold  to  suggest  an  union  that  now  I  dare  not  hint  at. 
A  man  and  woman  might  be  happy  together  on  a  little 
means,  but  surely  not  on  practically  nothing." 

Unfortunately  Clarenda  was  obliged  to  admit  to  herself 
that  she  was  quite  in  agreement  with  Sir  Batty  in  this 
regard.  She  had  come  to  court  in  the  very  earnest  hope 
of  making  a  good  comfortable  match  that  would  ensure 
her  a  life  of  ease  and  pleasure  and  freedom  from  the  do- 
mestic cares  that  had  troubled  her  youth.  She  had  resolved 
to  do  her  best  to  bring  about  such  a  result.  But  she  had 
never,  for  a  single  instant,  dreamed  of  such  a  fabulous 
chance  as  fortune  had  now  been  pleased  to  fling  at  her 
feet. 

"Alas !"  she  confessed,  "I  fear  me  that  I  should  never  be 
happy  as  a  poor  man's  wife,  nor,  as  a  consequence,  make 
the  poor  man  happy.  I  have  had  too  much  privation  in 
the  past  to  relish  it  in  the  present  or  to  persevere  in  it 
through  the  future.  I  want  to  live  a  golden  life." 

"Such  is  indeed  the  only  fit  life  for  one  so  lovely  as 
yourself,"  Sir  Batty  assured  her.  "You  should  command 
all  the  lustre  that  costly  jewels  and  splendid  apparel  can 
bring  to  enhance  your  charms.  For  such  an  one  as  you  the 
best  of  everything  is  no  more  than  a  necessity,  and  it  would 
be  merely  sinful  for  any  man,  however  ardent,  to  allow 
an  unhappy  passion  to  tempt  you  to  poverty  and  squalor." 


66  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Clarenda  wished  she  did  not  accord  with  him  so  com- 
pletely; perhaps  in  the  core  of  her  heart  she  wished  a 
little,  too,  that  handsome  Sir  Batty  was  not  quite  so  reason- 
able and  judicious  in  his  concern  for  her  welfare.  Sir 
Batty 's  cunning  may  have  guessed  something  of  her 
thought,  for  he  spoke  again  on  a  shifted  key. 

"If  I  were  but  to  consider  my  own  feelings,"  he  went  on, 
"I  should  cheerfully  resign  all  things,  cheerfully  welcome 
want  and  lowliness  in  the  company  of  the  object  of  my 
adoration.  But  should  I  not  deserve  a  thousand  deaths  for 
condemning  that  adored  object  to  those  pangs?  How 
could  a  true  man  have  the  heart  to  behold  without  reproach 
his  idol  in  homespun,  his  beloved  hungered  and  athirst, 
sleeping  on  a  hard  couch  beneath  a  wretched  roof?  How 
could  he,  I  ask  you,  how  could  he  ?" 

Clarenda  in  her  mind  agreed  that  the  lover  Sir  Batty 
pictured  ought  not  to  do  anything  of  the  kind  if  such  an 
one  as  herself  were  the  nymph  of  his  dreams. 

"After  all,"  reflected  Sir  Batty,  "perhaps  the  good  gen- 
tleman's years  are  so  many  points  to  his  credit.  He  may 
have  the  grace  to  be  brisk  in  making  you  an  exquisite 
widow." 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  some  such  fancy  had  indeed 
occurred  to  Clarenda,  but  she  had  frowned  upon  herself 
for  it  and  reproved  herself,  wherefore  she  was  now 
very  ready  to  frown  upon  Sir  Batty  and  to  reprove  him, 
although  without  making  any  confession  of  complicity 
in  idea,  a  confession  which  she  decided  to  be  super- 
fluous. 

"For  shame,"  she  declared  hotly.  "You  must  not  think 
such  thoughts,  or  if  you  do  think  them  you  must  not  turn 
them  into  words  to  the  shocking  of  my  ears." 

Sir  Batty  stooped  and  kissed  her  hand.  "You  are  always 
in  the  right,"  he  murmured.  When  he  raised  his  head 
he  could  see  that  she  was  vexed  no  longer,  and  perhaps  an 
unwarier  suitor  would  have  thought  it  the  time  to  seek 
to  shift  his  lips  from  her  hand  to  her  mouth.  But  Sir 
Batty  was  too  skilful  a  tactician  to  hazard  a  false  move  in 
such  an  hysterical  hour.  He  had  hopes  for  himself  in  that 
future  hinted  at  when  a  beautiful  rich  widow  might  be 
willing  to  accept  him  in  second  spousals,  but  he  had  also 


LOVERS'  MEETINGS  67 

hopes  and  plans  for  earlier  favours,  and  to  gain  these  he 
was  wise  enough  to  know  that  he  must  work  craftily. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  a  page  entered  the  gallery 
wearing  the  Godalming  livery.  At  the  sound  of  his  ap- 
proach the  pair,  who  had  been  seated  in  somewhat  unnec- 
essary proximity,  moved  a  little  apart.  As  soon  as  the 
page  caught  sight  of  them  he  advanced,  and  withdrawing 
a  folded  and  sealed  paper  from  his  belt,  presented  it  to 
Clarenda  with  a  respectful  salutation. 

"From  my  lord  of  Godalming,"  he  said.  Clarenda  han- 
dled the  document  nervously.  It  was  addressed  in  a  stately 
hand  of  write  "To  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant,  these,"  and 
the  big  red  seal  with  the  Godalming  arms  upon  it  looked 
very  solemn.  Seeing  that  the  page  still  waited,  Clarenda 
questioned  : 

"Am  I  to  read  this  now?" 

The  page  bowed  affirmation.  Clarenda  broke  the  seal, 
unfolded  the  paper  and  read : 

"The  Earl  of  Godalming  tenders  his  salutations  to 
Mistress  Clarenda  Constant  and  makes  bold  to  assure  her 
that  he  has  the  Queen's  permission  to  solicit  an  interview. 
He  will  therefore,  with  Mistress  Constant's  approval,  do 
himself  the  honour  of  waiting  upon  her  at  two  of  the  clock 
of  this  afternoon  in  the  Hall  of  the  Nymphs." 

Clarenda  looked  up  from  her  reading  with  an  anxious, 
fluttered  face.  Sir  Batty,  with  the  air  of  one  that  is  careful 
to  avoid  any  show  of  indiscretion,  had  risen  and  walked 
some  few  paces  to  a  window  through  which  he  looked 
thoughtfully. 

"Will  you  tell  my  lord,"  Clarenda  said,  with  a  very 
unsuccessful  attempt  not  to  appear  embarrassed,  "that  I 
shall  do  myself  the  honour  to  obey  his  commands." 

The  page,  who  carried  a  face  of  a  careful  blankness,  as  if 
he  knew  nothing  at  all  of  what  everybody  was  talking 
about,  bowed  again  and  left  the  gallery.  Sir  Batty  quitted 
his  window  and  returning  to  Clarenda  reached  out  his 
hands  as  if  to  take  the  paper  from  her.  But  Clarenda,  as  if 
she  did  not  notice  his  movement,  put  the  letter  into  the 
bosom  of  her  dress. 

"My  lord  wishes  to  see  me,"  she  said,  as  a  sop  to  Sir 
_Batty's  curiosity.  "It  was,  I  suppose,  to  be  expected  that 


68  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

he  should  do  so.    And  now  I  must  return  to  my  duties." 

Sir  Batty  gave  her  a  glance  in  which  ardour  and  devo- 
tion were  beautifully  blended. 

"This  shall  not  meddle  with  our  friendship,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

"I  suppose  not,"  Clarenda  answered,  with  a  puzzled  face. 

"Here  again,  then,  to-morrow,"  Sir  Batty  suggested,  with 
a  world  of  worship  in  his  appeal. 

"I  suppose  so,"  Clarenda  answered  again,  still  wearing 
the  puzzled  look.  It  really  was  a  very  bewildering,  un- 
chancy business.  And  with  that  answer  Sir  Batty  had  per- 
force to  be  content  as  he  watched  Clarenda  speeding  swiftly 
down  the  gallery. 

My  lord  of  Godalming's  page  found  his  master  seated  in 
his  study  busily  reading  certain  reports  that  had  come  in 
from  various  sea-captains  in  foreign  parts,  and  had  been 
sent  to  him  for  his  consideration  by  the  Lord  High  Admiral. 
He  laid  down  the  paper  he  was  reading — a  paper  which 
told  an  important  tale  well  and  was  signed  "Hercules 
Flood" — to  listen  gravely  as  the  boy  delivered  Clarenda's 
answer.  He  listened  with  equal  gravity  as  the  youth  ex- 
plained his  delay  by  his  difficulty  in  finding  Mistress  Clar- 
enda, whom  he  finally  discovered  in  the  Gilded  Gallery  in 
company  with  Sir  Batty  Sellars.  Then  with  a  gesture  he 
dismissed  the  page  and  returned,  with  an  unmoved  coun- 
tenance, to  the  report  of  Hercules  Flood,  Sea-Captain. 


CHAPTER   IX 

IN  THE  HALL  OF  THE  NYMPHS 

THE  Hall  of  the  Nymphs  was,  as  it  were,  the  with- 
drawing-room  or  bower  of  the  young  ladies  who  were 
privileged  to  serve  as  maids  of  honour  to  the  maiden  Queen. 
It  was  so  called  because  it  was  hung  with  tapestries  repre- 
senting the  virgin  goddess  Diana  and  her  fair  attendants 
in  various  scenes  of  sport  and  chase.  It  was  the  room  in 
which  the  penanced  sisterhood  had  sat  and  studied  Augus- 
tine while  the  maiden  Queen  informed  Clarenda  of  the 
glory  which  was  about  to  flow  upon  her. 

This  room  was  generally  tenanted  by  several  of  the 
Queen's  ladies,  but  this  afternoon  by  the  Queen's  special 
orders  it  was  placed  at  the  sole  disposal  of  Mistress  Clar- 
enda Constant,  and  Jock  Holiday  had  the  royal  orders  to 
see  that  none  profaned  its  quiet  save  only  Clarenda  and 
the  visitor  whom  she  waited  there  to  receive.  That  visitor 
was  of  course  my  lord  of  Godalming. 

It  was  inevitably,  from  its  nature,  a  curious  meeting. 
The  girl  was  a  very  rose-bush  of  embarrassments.  My 
lord  was  as  composed  and  polite  as  if  he  were  opening  a 
state  ball  or  a  diplomatic  congress.  The  girl  had  been 
sitting  in  a  window  when  my  lord  was  announced.  She 
rose  with  a  start  at  his  entry,  dropping  the  book  she  had 
been  pretending  to  read,  and  the  fan  she  had  been  pretend- 
ing to  wield.  My  lord,  stooping  with  no  show  of  unease, 
picked  up  the  discarded  trifles  and  placed  them  on  the 
window-seat.  Then  he  extended  a  fine  white  hand,  took 
prisoner  the  tips  of  the  girl's  pink  fingers  and  with  dis- 
tinguished formality  conducted  her  to  a  seat.  When  she 
was  seated  he  asked  her  permission  to  do  the  like,  and  as 
soon  as  she  had  stammered  assent  he  placed  himself  upon 
a  chair  a  little  way  from  her  in  an  attitude  of  dignified 
repose  and  fixed  his  eyes,  which  still  were  bright  and 
piercing,  for  a  few  seconds  thoughtfully  upon  the  flushed 
69 


70  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

loveliness  of  her  face.  There  was  nothing  in  his  regard 
that  was  other  than  gentle  and  kind,  and  the  girl  in  spite 
of  her  confusion  found  to  her  relief  that  she  could  endure 
it  without  distress,  and  even,  after  a  little,  diffidently 
return  it. 

My  lord  soon  broke  a  silence  which  if  prolonged  must 
needs  have  been  discomforting  to  his  companion. 

"My  dear  young  lady,"  he  began,  "I  have  done  myself 
the  honour  to  wait  upon  you  thus  promptly  because  I  think 
it  is  well  that  we  should  come  to  a  mutual  and  I  trust  not 
disagreeable  understanding." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  not  as  if  expecting  a  reply 
but  as  if  desirous  that  the  purport  of  his  exordium  should 
sink  into  her  heart. 

Clarenda  said  nothing,  but  she  smiled  her  thanks,  and 
my  lord  with  a  bow  resumed  his  speech. 

"If  it  may  seem  that  I  have  been  consulting  my  own 
happiness  in  tendering  my  name  to  you,  I  would  have  you 
to  believe  that  I  have  not  in  so  doing  been  indifferent  to 
your  happiness  or  heedless  of  your  feelings.  I  am  as  con- 
scious as  another  of  the  disparity  in  our  years,  but  it  has 
not  been  without  mature  consideration  that  I  have  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  such  a  disparity  need  not  of  necessity 
prove  a  barrier  either  to  your  happiness  or  to  mine." 

Speaking  as  he  did  in  that  sweet  clear  voice,  with  that 
sweet  smile  on  his  face  and  kindness  shining  in  his  clear 
eyes  the  girl  had  it  in  her  heart  to  wish  that  the  fountain 
of  youth  bubbled  somewhere  in  the  Queen's  garden. 

"You  are  very  good,  my  lord,"  Clarenda  faltered,  "and 
indeed  I  am  at  a  loss  what  to  say  to  you." 

"If  you  will  listen  to  me  I  would  have  you  say  this,"  con- 
tinued my  lord  gently.  "I  would  have  you  say,  'My  lord, 
this  offer  of  yours  has  taken  me  unawares,  and  I  am  the 
more  dismayed  by  it  as  I  am  well  aware  that  it  is  scarcely 
possible  for  me  to  run  counter  to  the  interest  of  my  family 
and  the  wishes  of  my  Queen.  But  I  cannot  say  that  I  am 
rejoiced !'  Come,  young  lady,  is  not  this  very  much  in 
substance  what  you  would  choose  to  say  if  you  spoke 
your  mind?" 

Clarenda  looked  at  him  quickly  and  as  quickly  looked 
away  again. 


IN  THE  HALL  OF  THE  NYMPHS     71 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  she  whispered,  and  wished  she  could  be 
more  eloquent. 

My  lord  nodded  his  head  slightly. 

"That  is  very  natural  on  your  part,"  he  said.  "On  my 
part  it  is  only  natural  that  I  should  admire  you,  and  that 
I  should  wish  you  well.  But  I  should  like  you  to  under- 
stand that  it  is  no  part  of  my  desire  to  act  against  your 
will.  The  Queen's  approval  I  have  gained,  the  consent  of 
your  kindred  I  make  so  bold  as  to  take  for  granted.  I 
should  be  glad  to  gain  yours." 

The  girl  moved  a  little  as  if  she  were  about  to  speak, 
but  he  lifted  a  hand  and  checked  her. 

"Here  and  now,"  he  declared,  "I  do  not  seek  for  an 
answer.  The  time  for  that  answer  from  you  is  not  yet. 
When  the  time  comes,  and  all  I  ask  is  that  I  shall  be  left 
to  judge  of  its  coming,  then,  I  assure  you,  you  shall  be 
free  to  act  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  your  heart. 
But  I  must  in  my  regard  for  you  point  out  that  since  I 
have  asked  for  your  hand  with  the  consent  of  her  Majesty 
and  to  the  advantage  of  your  family,  it  would  place  you 
in  a  position  of  discomfort  if  you  were  to  go  against  the 
Queen's  wish  and  refuse  what  in  the  eyes  of  the  world 
must  be,  as  far  as  name  and  fortune  are  concerned,  a  very 
admirable  alliance.  Do  you  follow  what  I  say  and  do  you 
agree  with  it?  You  need  not  answer.  Just  nod  your 
head." 

Clarenda  had  followed  what  he  said  with  great  directness 
and  she  did  not  see  her  way  to  disagree  with  it.  What 
would  become  of  her  if  she,  the  poor  daughter  of  a  poor 
house,  were  to  fling  away  such  a  chance  as  this?  What 
would  her  needy  family,  hungry  for  the  sweets  of  life,  say 
to  her  if  she  failed  their  need  and  flung  away  such  fortune  ? 
She,  too,  was  hungry  for  the  sweets  of  life  and  my  lord 
could  pour  them  into  her  lap  with  full  hands.  Also  in  the 
natural  order  of  things  she  might  look  forward  to  a  not 
distant  freedom. 

Therefore  Clarenda  nodded  her  head,  and  my  lord,  seeing 
the  signal,  took  up  the  thread  of  his  tale. 

"You  and  I  therefore  are  agreed  together,  dear  mistress, 
that  our  affairs  shall  stand  for  the  present  even  as  they 
stand.  You  shall  be  known  to  the  world  as  my  affianced 


72  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

bride,  but  as  far  as  you  and  I  are  concerned  there  will  be 
no  date  fixed  for  espousals.  That  is  for  hereafter." 

He  paused,  and  the  girl  again  nodded  her  head.  She 
was  very  pale  now,  but  the  most  of  her  embarrassment  had 
fallen  from  her.  From  the  last  of  it  she  was  soon  to  be 
delivered. 

"To  save  you  any  measure  of  hesitation,"  my  lord  re- 
sumed, "let  me  assure  you,  of  what  I  hope  truly  needs  no 
assurance,  that  I  shall  in  no  particular  presume  upon  the 
relationship  into  which  we  are  brought." 

She  flamed  very  lively  now,  but  her  eyes  showed  her 
appreciation  and  her  gratitude.  Surely  never  could  age 
pay  its  addresses  to  youth  with  a  more  seemly  carriage. 

"You  are  very  good  to  me,  my  lord,"  she  fluttered. 

"That  is  my  desire,"  my  lord  said  gravely.  "But  as 
you  have  agreed  to  enter  into  this  alliance  with  my  house 
there  are  certain  conditions  I  should  wish  to  suggest,  or 
rather  certain  requests  which  I  should  desire  to  make." 

Clarenda,  very  much  overpowered  by  the  situation,  by 
her  sudden  exaltation,  and  by  the  suave  gravity  of  my  lord's 
manner,  spoke  with  a  quaver  in  her  voice. 

"Your  lordship,"  she  declared,  "has  but  to  command 
and  you  will  find  me  most  ready  to  obey  your  behests." 

My  lord  of  Godalming  smiled  a  kindly  smile  that  flowed 
and  faded  over  his  wrinkled  face  like  a  flash  of  wintry 
sunshine. 

"It  is  very  gracious  of  you  to  say  as  much,"  he  assured 
her.  "Well,  in  the  first  instance  I  want  you  to  quit  the 
Court  for  a  while." 

Clarenda's  face  fell  and  her  eyes  dimmed. 

"Quit  the  Court,"  she  echoed  in  a  lost  little  shred  of  a 
voice  that  touched  the  heart  of  my  lord  with  a  curious  sense 
of  pity.  But  it  did  not  change  his  purpose. 

"I  want  you  to  quit  the  Court,"  he  repeated.  He  also 
added  after  a  pause  the  qualifying  words  that  he  had  used 
before,  "for  a  while."  Again  he  paused,  and  sat  looking 
at  her  steadfastly  and  the  queer  fancy  came  into  her  head 
that  his  gaze,  so  sharpened  and  intensified  by  long  years  of 
wisdom  and  experience  of  men  and  women,  could  read 
every  thought  of  her  mind. 

"You  will  forgive  me,"  he  said  presently,  "if  I  presume 


IN  THE  HALL  OF  THE  NYMPHS     73 

to  suggest  that  it  would  scarcely  be  possible  for  one  so 
young  as  you  and  so  raw  to  the  great  world  to  be  in  all 
ways  ripe  for  such  an  alliance  as  is  now  proposed  to  you. 
In  birth  as  in  beauty  you  are  indeed  worthy,  but  there  are 
so  many  things  to  learn,  small  things  indeed,  but  essen- 
tial to  your  state,  which  have  not  yet  been  learned  and 
which  are  not  best  to  be  learned  in  the  environment  of  a 
Court." 

He  paused  again,  watching  her  with  a  glance  in  which 
a  gentle  humour  blended  with  a  very  decided  authority. 
Clarenda  felt  that  there  was  no  course  open  to  her  but  to 
agree  to  whatever  my  lord  might  propose,  though  she  did 
not  very  clearly  understand  what  he  would  be  at. 

"I  am  your  lordship's  humble  servant,"  the  girl  mur- 
mured, and  said  no  more. 

My  lord  took  up  her  words  in  prompt  protest. 

"No,  no,  and  again  no.  I  may  indeed  make  some  sug- 
gestions that  my  experience  may  lead  me  to  consider  ad- 
visable, but  the  decision  upon  them  shall  rest  with  you. 
I  wish  for  a  time  to  sequester  you  in  a  place  other  than 
the  Court  and  to  place  you  under  a  care  that  the  Court 
is  not  able  to  afford.  But  I  wish  you  to  remember  that 
while  you  are  in  the  place  of  which  I  speak  and  under  the 
care  to  which  I  shall  commit  you,  you  are  to  consider 
yourself  as  under  no  control  save  such  as  you  are  willing 
to  accept.  If  it  please  you  to  fall  in  with  my  proposals  I 
shall  be  flattered.  If  it  does  not  please  you  I  shall  still  be 
content." 

Clarenda  stared  at  him  in  wonder,  but  she  kept  silent,  for 
she  was  at  a  loss  what  to  say.  My  lord  continued : 

"I  beg  you  to  remember  first  of  all  that  while  you  are 
thus  in  obedience  to  my  entreaty  away  from  Court,  you 
will  have  a  free  command  of  my  fortune.  You  may  spend 
money  as  you  please,  with  both  hands  if  you  prefer  it.  I  do 
not  think  my  exchequer  will  feel  the  drain.  Further,  I 
wish  you  to  consider  yourself  free,  as  free  as  any  human 
being  can  be,  to  do  exactly  as  you  like  and  to  consider 
yourself  accountable  to  no  one  for  your  actions." 

"To  no  one?"  murmured  Clarenda. 

"To  no  one,"  my  lord  replied  gravely. 

He  rose  to  his  feet  as  a  sign  that  the  interview  he  had 


74  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

solicited  had  come  to  an  end  and  he  was  about  to  take  his 
leave. 

"That  is  all  I  have  to  say,"  he  said,  "and  is  all  that  you 
need  to  say,  and  I  think  that  all  is  well  said  between  us. 
May  I  be  permitted  the  privilege  to  kiss  your  hand." 

Clarenda  had  risen  by  this  time.  My  lord  of  Godalming, 
stooping,  took  her  hand  again  and  this  time  lifting  it  to 
his  lips  impressed  upon  the  pink  finger  tips  the  ghost  of  a 
kiss.  Then  he  made  her  a  profound  salutation. 

In  another  moment  he  was  gone  and  Clarenda  was  alone 
in  the  chamber,  free  to  resume  her  neglected  book  and  her 
abandoned  fan.  She  drew  back  again  into  the  window-seat 
and  took  up  both  her  playthings,  but  she  did  not  open  the 
book  and  she  did  not  open  the  fan.  Instead  she  sat  there 
for  quite  a  long  time  with  her  chin  in  her  hand  staring 
out  into  the  sunlit  garden,  and  wondering  if  she  had 
dreamed  a  dream  from  which  she  would  presently  awake 
and  laugh  and  wonder. 


CHAPTER   X 
AT  KING'S  WELCOME  , 

MY  lord  of  Godalming  had  a  mansion  in  the  West 
Country  that  was  little  less  than  a  palace  and  here 
he  was  resolved  that  Clarenda  should  dwell  apart  for  a 
season.  House  was  kept  for  him  there  by  an  elderly  kins- 
woman, Lady  Gylford,  a  faded  gentlewoman  whose  gen- 
tility had  flowered  and  flourished  in  the  reign  of  the  eighth 
Henry  and  now  was  as  great  as  her  estate  was  petty.  If 
she  had  commanded  as  many  domains  as  her  coat  showed 
quarterings  she  would  have  been  well-to-do  enough.  But 
as  it  went  she  was  church-mouse  poor  or  would  have  been 
if  it  had  not  been  for  the  kindness  of  my  lord  who  set  her 
up  at  King's  Welcome  hard  by  Plymouth  town,  and  made 
her  its  majordomo.  My  lord  now  proposed  to  commit  his 
betrothed  to  the  care  of  this  excellent  woman,  to  be  trained 
and  paced  in  all  those  arts  and  graces  that  become  a  budding 
countess.  At  the  same  time  he  issued  unqualified  instruc- 
tions to  his  vicereine  that  the  liberty,  the  will,  the  whim  of 
her  young  charge  were  to  be  in  no  way  limited  or  fretted. 
The  elder  woman  was  permitted  with  tact  and  discretion, 
to  offer  advice  to  her  charge,  but  the  girl  was  to  be  left  free 
to  decide  for  herself  whether  she  would  follow  the  advice 
or  no.  In  brief  Mistress  Clarenda  was  to  be  supreme 
sovereign  of  King's  Welcome  while  she  abode  there. 

Lady  Gylford  shook  her  grey  head  very  soberly  when 
she  was  made  acquainted  with  my  lord's  intentions.  It 
seemed  to  her  as  it  seemed  to  most,  the  very  top  of  folly 
for  the  old  statesman  to  adventure  the  taking  of  a  young 
wife.  But  that  act  of  folly  having  to  be  accepted,  it  seemed 
pity  of  his  life  that  he  should  add  to  it  by  giving  to  the 
young  woman  the  ill-education  of  extravagant  liberty  and 
licence  in  caprice.  Perhaps  if  Lady  Gylford  had  been  more 
foolish  or  more  wise  she  would  have  ventured  upon  a 
75 


76  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

remonstrance  to  my  lord.  But  time  had  taught  her  the 
lesson  that  it  was  well  to  assume  that  people  knew  their 
own  minds,  and  that  very  certainly  my  lord  in  the  course  of 
his  long  career  had  shown  that  he  knew  his.  So  she  dis- 
missed the  folly  of  man  from  her  thoughts  with  a  frown  and 
a  sigh  and  set  herself  to  make  ready  for  the  reception  of 
the  visitor  to  King's  Welcome.  She  only  occupied  a  small 
corner  of  the  great  house,  but  now  it  was  to  be  all  thrown 
open  as  if  according  to  its  name  it  were  welcoming  royalty. 
So  shutters  were  swung  apart,  air  and  light  flooded  into 
dusky  halls  and  apartments,  pictures  renewed  their  ac- 
quaintance with  the  day,  gold  and  silver  plate  was  extracted 
from  its  treasure-chest  and  set  upon  long  deserted  side- 
boards, curtains  and  rugs  and  tapestries  asserted  themselves 
to  make  the  great  place  gay. 

It  did  not  seem  very  gay  to  Clarenda  for  all  that,  when 
after  her  secret  flitting  from  London  she  arrived  at  its 
gates.  The  mansion  seemed  old-fashioned,  as  indeed  it  was, 
and  my  lord's  kinswoman  seemed  old-fashioned,  as  indeed 
she  was,  and  the  country  life  seemed  dull.  She  had,  she 
assured  herself,  known  so  much  of  the  country  life  since 
her  childhood  on  those  Kentish  acres  where  the  Constants 
struggled  to  gain  a  livelihood,  that  she  wished  for  no  more 
of  it,  and  lo,  she  was  having  more  of  it  with  a  vengeance. 
She  sighed  greatly  for  the  delights  of  the  Court,  she  even 
sighed  a  little  for  the  fearsome  privilege  of  the  Queen's 
intimacy;  she  sighed  most  for  the  fascinating  companion- 
ship of  Sir  Batty.  But  since  these  were  for  the  moment  out 
of  her  reach,  she  resolved,  having  some  measure  of  good 
sense  in  her  composition,  to  make  the  best  of  her  present 
condition,  which  at  least  was  exceedingly  magnificent. 

As  for  Lady  Gylford,  that  good  lady  soon  began  to  pity 
herself  for  having  been  so  unexpectedly  called  upon  to  play 
the  part  of  duenna  to  a  young  lady  who  was  a  little  bewil- 
dered and  awestruck  at  first  by  the  novelty  of  her  position, 
but  who,  when  once  her  thin  veil  of  shyness  was  removed, 
was  proving  as  teasing  and  capricious  a  charge  as  tranquil 
elderly  lady  could  wish  not  to  encounter. 

Clarenda  found  that  a  small  body  of  talent  was  arrayed 
before  her  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  the  outworks  of 
her  ignorance  by  storm  and  setting  the  banners  of  knowl- 


AT  KING'S  WELCOME  77 

edge  on  the  battlements  of  her  intelligence.  There  was 
Monsieur  le  Beau  for  instance  that  was  ready  to  teach  her 
the  language  of  Ronsard  with  his  lips,  and  the  measure  of 
French  dances  with  his  feet.  There  was  Signor  Bello 
Belli  that  would  instruct  her  in  Dante  and  Petrarch  and 
the  music  of  the  lute.  There  was  the  honest  English 
John  Sturdy,  Divine  and  scholar  of  Oxford,  that  was  to 
attend  to  her  religion  and  impart  some  tincture  of  Latin, 
a  modicum  of  Greek,  and  some  rudiments  of  mathematics, 
optics,  and  those  other  branches  of  scientific  knowledge 
to  which  he  was  devoted.  These  were  not  indeed  the  real 
names  of  Clarenda's  trine  of  teachers,  but  were  the  nick- 
names which  she  promptly  bestowed  upon  them  and  by 
which  she  insisted  on  speaking  of  them,  not  indeed  to  their 
adoring  faces  but  in  the  privacy  of  her  conferences  with 
Lady  Gylford.  Actually  the  name  of  the  Frenchman  was 
Monsieur  Jean-Marie  du  Var;  that  of  the  Italian  was 
Signor  Giraldo  Roccabini,  and  that  of  the  Englishman  the 
Reverend  Elihu  Sandys.  But  these  their  real  names  were 
scarce  as  apt  to  their  natures  as  those  with  which  the 
impudent  wit  of  Clarenda  had  fitted  them. 

Clarenda  did  not  very  greatly  enjoy  that  acquisition  of 
knowledge  which  these  good  gentlemen  were  banded  to- 
gether to  bring  about,  but  since  they  were  there  and  she 
must  needs  endure  them,  she  contrived  to  make  them  afford 
her  some  unexpected  entertainment.  Even  a  less  self- 
conscious  maid  than  she  could  not  fail  to  notice  the  im- 
pression that  her  youth  and  beauty  made  upon  the  varying 
softness  of  composition  of  each  of  her  teachers,  and  the 
mischief  lurking  in  her  head  prompted  her  to  divert  herself. 
It  needed  very  little  effort  on  her  part  to  set  two  of  the 
poor  foolish  pedagogues  all  on  fire  for  her  loveliness. 
Monsieur  le  Beau  and  Signor  Bello  Belli  had  not  been  very 
good  friends  to  each  other  from  the  beginning,  for  each 
considered  that  his  own  particular  subject  was  vastly  more 
important  to  a  politely  trained  young  lady  than  that  of  his 
fellow.  But  in  a  very  little  while  Clarenda  contrived  to  set 
the  pair  completely  by  the  ears.  For  each  one  being  silly 
enough  to  fall  in  love  with  his  fair  pupil,  was  also  silly 
enough  to  believe  that  the  fair  pupil  encouraged  him  in 
particular,  and  Jet  his,  as  he  believed,  less  fortunate  rival 


78  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

understand  as  much,  though  all  the  time  the  impish  young 
woman  was  making  game  of  the  brace  of  them. 

It  came  in  the  end  to  an  open  brawl  between  the  French- 
man and  the  Italian,  who  after  hurling  disdain  and 
defiance  at  one  another  through  the  space  of  a  summer 
afternoon,  decided  that  nothing  could  satisfy  their  rage 
but  the  ordeal  of  battle.  Hastily  arming  themselves 
with  a  brace  of  ancient  swords  from  the  armoury  they 
prepared  for  a  formal  duel  in  the  orchard.  But  Clarenda, 
who  had  engineered  the  whole  quarrel,  felt  that  this  was 
going  a  little  too  far,  so  she  appeared  on  the  scene  of  strife 
in  the  company  of  Lady  Gylford  and  with  the  assumption 
of  a  towering  passion,  gave  her  bellicose  taskmasters  such 
a  talking-to  that  they  were  glad  to  slink  away  very  crest- 
fallen, and  restore  their  unblooded  weapons  to  their  hooks. 

After  this  it  was  suggested  by  Lady  Gylford  that  the 
Gaul  and  the  Latin  should  take  their  leave  of  King's  Wel- 
come, a  suggestion  which  Clarenda,  who  by  this  time  was 
heartily  sick  of  the  admiring  pair,  cheerfully  accepted. 
The  Oxford  scholar,  who  had  shown  greater  command  of 
his  feelings  and  manifested  a  greater  discretion  in  his 
carriage  than  his  foreign  competitors,  was  suffered  to  re- 
main at  his  post.  As  he  had  some  command  of  French  and 
a  smattering  of  Italian,  he  cheerfully  consented  to  shoulder 
the  duties  of  the  exiles,  after  a  very  solemn  warning  from 
Lady  Gylford  to  profit  by  their  awful  example,  a  warning 
which  he  promised  most  dutifully  to  regard. 

It  did  not  indeed  seem  on  the  face  of  it  that  he  would 
have  any  great  difficulty  in  keeping  his  word.  Whatever 
his  feelings  towards  Clarenda  may  have  been  he  had  man- 
aged to  mask  them  with  greater  success  than  his  more 
volatile  colleagues,  and  he  appeared  quite  content  to  let 
his  young  pupil  take  as  much  holiday  and  as  little  study 
as  pleased  her.  Indeed  he  seemed  too  engrossed  in  his 
own  pursuits  to  pay  much  heed  to  aught  else.  He  had 
a  small  room  to  himself  at  King's  Welcome  where  he  was 
for  ever  busy,  reading  in  abstruse  books,  and  grinding  and 
polishing  small  pieces  of  glass  as  if  there  were  no  other 
purpose  in  life  worth  serving.  Wherefore  Mistress  Clar- 
enda, following  her  humour,  very  cheerfully  left  him  ample 
leisure  to  follow  his  humour,  and  Clarenda  Constant  was 


AT  KING'S  WELCOME  79 

mainly  idle  and  Elihu  Sandys  was  never  idle.  Yet  if 
Clarenda  Constant  never  gave  Master  Sandys  a  thought  as 
she  followed  her  caprices,  it  seems  certain  that  he  gave 
Mistress  Clarenda  many  thoughts  as  he  twiddled  and  fid- 
dled with  his  little  bits  of  glass. 


CHAPTER   XI 

GONE — AND  LEFT   NO  SIGN 

IT  would  seem  that  the  Court  was  destined  to  experience 
a  succession  of  surprises.  While  it  was  still  reeling 
under  the  staggering  blow  of  the  news  of  my  lord  of  Godal- 
ming's  betrothal  and  was  at  least  promising  itself  an  in- 
finity of  entertainment  in  studying  the  behaviour  of  the 
strangely-assorted  pair  in  their  courtly  juxtaposition,  came, 
like  a  second  thunderclap,  shock  number  two.  Even  as 
the  earlier  news  had  sped  this  way  and  that  way  through  all 
the  channels  and  purlieus  of  the  Court  that  Lord  Godal- 
ming  was  wishful  to  wed  the  twenty-year-old  Clarenda 
Constant,  so  now  the  news  sped  that  this  same  Clarenda 
Constant  had  vanished  from  the  precincts  of  the  Court  and 
the  purview  of  the  courtiers.  She  had  been  visible  to  all 
eyes  on  the  one  day,  that  was  yesterday.  On  the  other  day 
that  was  to-day  she  had  disappeared  as  completely  as  if 
she  had  gone  for  a  ride  on  the  crupper  of  the  Fairy  King  in 
the  ballad. 

If  the  Court  at  large,  and  especially  that  share  of  it 
which  wore  doublet  and  hose,  felt  a  sense  of  loss  on  waking 
up  to  find  that  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant  had  quitted  its 
company,  that  same  sense  of  loss  was  most  sharply  felt  by 
the  Master  of  the  Lesser  Revels.  He  had  anticipated  a 
speedy  marriage  as  the  natural  consequence  of  an  impatient 
old  gentleman's  wooing,  and  he  had  counted  with  confidence 
upon  a  great  deal  of  enjoyable  time  passed  in  the  company 
of  the  young  bride.  It  was  clear  to  his  philosophy  that 
under  the  cover  of  her  new  name  she  would  be  more  ready 
to  grant  those  favours  which  it  would  now  be  so  much 
safer  to  solicit.  It  was  therefore  exceedingly  disappoint- 
ing to  find  so  promising  a  scheme  marred  at  the  start  by  the 
caprice  of  a  meddlesome  ancient. 

The  worst  of  the  matter  was  that  while  every  one  knew 
80 


GONE— AND  LEFT  NO  SIGN  81 

that  Mistress  Clarenda  had  gone  from  the  Court,  no  one 
knew  whither  she  had  gone.  She  had  vanished  without  a 
word  of  warning,  without  a  syllable  of  farewell.  Sir  Batty's 
self-love  was  very  grievously  offended  at  such  conduct  on 
the  part  of  one  whom  he  had  marked  for  his  own. 

Various  casual  conversations  soon  convinced  Sir  Batty 
that  there  were  only  three  persons  at  Court  who  would  be 
likely  to  have  knowledge  of  Clarenda's  whereabouts.  The 
first  of  these  three  was  the  Queen.  It  was  scarcely  con- 
ceivable that  one  of  her  Majesty's  Maids  of  Honour  could 
be  conveyed  away  from  the  royal  side  without  her  Majesty 
being  cognisant  of  the  fact  and  of  the  destination  of  the 
maid.  But  Sir  Batty,  though  he  knew  that  he  stood  pretty 
high  in  the  Queen's  favour,  and  believed  in  his  heart  that 
he  might,  Heaven  propitious,  oust  the  existing  favourite, 
knew  also  that  he  would  not  stand  high  in  the  royal  favour 
for  very  long  if  he  asserted  himself  indiscreetly,  and  wearied 
the  royal  ears  by  too  eager  inquiries  as  to  a  departed  young 
lady.  The  moments  accorded  by  Gloriana  for  audience  were 
intended  to  be  spent  in  the  rehearsing  of  Gloriana's  praises, 
and  Sir  Batty  felt  sure  that  he  would  not  be  lightly  for- 
given if  he  ventured  to  depart  from  the  routine  of  the 
courtly  programme.  So  with  a  sigh  Sir  Batty  reluctantly 
ruled  the  Fountain  of  Honour,  who  in  this  case  was  also 
the  Fountain  of  Knowledge,  out  of  his  list  and  set  himself 
to  the  consideration  of  the  next  person  who  was  likely  to 
be  acquainted  with  the  dwelling-place  of  the  fair  Clarenda. 
That  person,  obviously,  was  the  fair  Clarenda's  affianced 
spouse,  my  lord  of  Godalming. 

Now  Sir  Batty  was  more  impudent  than  most  men,  but 
he  was  not  impudent  enough  to  affront  my  lord  of  Godal- 
ming with  blunt  inquiry  as  to  the  location  of  his  future 
wife.  My  lord  was  one  of  the  greatest  nobles  at  Court, 
and  Sir  Batty,  by  the  habit  of  his  office,  would  have  been 
reluctant  to  act,  in  the  Court  circle,  in  a  manner  unaccordant 
with  the  usages  of  courtly  etiquette.  To  offend  so  great  a 
man,  if  he  could  have  made  up  his  mind  to  do  it,  would 
be  not  merely  to  tempt  but  to  demand  the  Queen's  dis- 
pleasure and  might  very  well  involve  the  loss  of  his  Master- 
ship, if  no  worse  fate.  Or  again,  my  lord,  who  was  known 
to  be  of  extreme  punctiliousness,  on  the  point  of  honour, 


82  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

might  choose  to  keep  the  matter  in  his  own  hands  and  to 
answer  Sir  Batty's  audacity  with  a  challenge.  And  there 
would  Sir  Batty  be,  entangled  in  a  broil  from  which  there 
could  be  no  escape  with  advantage  to  himself.  For  while 
he  could  not  refuse  to  accept  such  a  challenge,  seeing  that 
my  lord  was  still  famous  for  his  swordsmanship,  he  would 
be  scorned  if  he  were  to  prove  successful  in  the  encounter 
and  derided  if  he  were  defeated.  With  another  heavy  sigh 
Sir  Batty  struck  the  name  of  my  lord  of  Godalming  off  the 
list  of  his  possible  oracles. 

There  was  yet  a  third  possibility  and  to  it  Sir  Batty  now 
gave  his  most  careful  consideration.  This  possibility  was 
incarnated  in  the  person  of  Jock  Holiday.  Sir  Batty,  who 
had  the  pliancy  of  a  statesman  where  his  own  interests  were 
concerned,  had  from  the  first  observed  the  favour  with 
which  the  Queen  regarded  Jock  Holiday,  and  from  the  first, 
therefore,  he  had  set  himself  to  be  civil  to  the  rough  Scotch- 
man. Jock  Holiday  must  know  where  Clarenda  had  gone. 
To  Jock  Holiday  accordingly  he  went  and  engaged  him  in 
conversation. 

"People  say,"  observed  Sir  Batty  carelessly,  as  one  who 
discusses  problems  in  the  vague,  "that  there  is  nothing  hap- 
pens in  Court,  or  for  the  matter  of  that  in  London  either, 
with  which  you  are  not  the  first  to  be  familiar." 

"People  say  right,"  Jock  answered,  opening  just  enough 
of  his  wooden  face  to  let  out  the  three  words  and  then 
closing  it  tightly  again. 

"And  yet,"  continued  Sir  Batty,  still  abstractedly,  "there 
must  be  some  things  which  escape  even  the  widespread  and 
fine  mesh  of  your  knowledge." 

Jock  Holiday  repaid  the  presumption  of  the  Master  of 
the  Lesser  Revels  with  a  stony  stare,  but  did  not  condescend 
to  articulate  protest. 

"I  suppose,  for  instance,"  Sir  Batty  went  on,  still  with 
the  same  air  of  heedless  detachment,  "that  you  are  not  aware 
of  the  whereabouts  of  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant  at  this 
present." 

This  provocation  forced  Holiday  to  open  the  box  of  his 
face  again  and  shake  out  another  three  words. 

"You  suppose  wrong,"  he  said  dourly,  and  shut  himself 
tightly  up  again.  But  Sir  Batty  was  not  to  be  warned  off. 


GONE— AND  LEFT  NO  SIGN  83 

"How  so,"  he  cried;  "is  it  really  true,  Jock,  that  you 
know  everything?  a  claim  which  I  thought  no  man  dared 
to  make  save  only  my  lord  Bacon." 

"My  lord  Bacon  may  know  what  he  pleases,"  said  Holi- 
day sententiously.  "I  know  what  I  know." 

"I  wish  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Sir  Batty,  with  a  great 
air  of  simple  candour,  "that  if  you  know  where  Mistress 
Clarenda  now  lodges  you  would  share  the  knowledge  with 
me." 

"Knowledge  shared  is  knowledge  wasted,  more  often  than 
not,"  Jock  commented,  "and  what  business  may  you  have 
to  be  seeking  where  the  young  lady  bides?" 

"Why,"  replied  Sir  Batty,  lying  briskly,  "I  have  been 
at  the  pains  to  write  her  a  little  ode  on  her  coming  espousals 
and  should  be  glad  to  deliver  it." 

"If  you  will  give  it  to  me,"  Jock  responded,  "I  will  make 
sure  that  it  is  delivered/' 

Sir  Batty  looked  at  Jock  with  an  angry  amusement.  He 
knew  that  he  would  waste  time  in  attempting  to  bully  or 
bribe  the  fellow,  but  he  was  not  sure  that  it  might  be  out 
of  the  possibilities  to  wheedle. 

"Jock,"  he  said  gravely,  "it  would  be  a  great  happiness 
to  me  to  know  the  whereabouts  of  Mistress  Clarenda." 

Holiday  looked  at  Sir  Batty  with  something  almost  like 
the  illumination  of  jocoseness  on  his  stolid  countenance. 
He  had  a  kind  of  respect  for  Sir  Beatty,  which  was  perhaps 
as  far  as  Jock -Holiday  was  likely  to  go  in  the  matter  of 
human  affections. 

"I  misdoubt  me,"  he  said  slowly,  "if  it  would  be  as  great 
a  happiness  for  my  lord  of  Godalming  if  you  were  possessed 
of  the  knowledge  which  you  seek." 

"Oh,  Jock  Holiday,"  cried  Sir  Batty,  with  a  fine  note 
of  candid  reproach  in  his  voice;  "since  when  are  you  on 
the  side  of  age  against  youth?" 

Jock  Holiday  could  very  well  have  answered,  "Since  I 
entered  the  Queen's  service,"  but  if  he  thought  such  a 
thought  he  said  no  such  a  say. 

"Sir  Batty,"  he  said,  "I  am  not  for  one  side  nor  for  an- 
other save  as  far  as  one  side  has  more  justice  than  the 
other.  If  we  serve  justice  we  cannot  go  far  afield." 

"And  is  it  justice,  I  ask  you?"  queried  Sir  Batty  petu- 


84  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

lantly,  "that  my  lord  should  carry  off  the  loveliest  maid 
from  Court,  for  all  the  world  as  Pluto  carried  off  Proser- 
pina, and  conceal  her  in  unknown  darkness?" 

There  was  a  quality  in  Sir  Batty's  voice  when  he  sought 
to  please  that  had  its  lure  for  the  roughest  of  men  as  well 
as  for  the  softest  of  women.  Even  dour  Jock  Holiday 
felt  the  spell. 

"If  I  were  a  young  gallant  in  your  place,"  he  said  slowly, 
"and  I  were  wishful  to  know  where  my  sweetheart  was 
hidden,  I  would  not  go  asking  questions  of  this  man  and 
that,  but  I  would  set  my  wits  to  work." 

"How  so,  Jock?"  questioned  Sir  Batty,  with  a  real  show 
of  interest  in  the  man's  words. 

"Why,  I  would  try  to  put  myself  in  the  old  carl's  place, 
and  I  would  ask  myself  in  which  of  all  his  jewel-boxes  the 
old  carl  would  be  most  likely  to  hide  so  bonny  a  gem  as 
this  young  lady  you  fancy,  and  then  I  would  go  and  see 
for  myself  if  I  had  guessed  right  or  if  I  had  guessed 
wrong." 

And  this  was  the  most  and  the  best  that  Sir  Batty,  for 
all  his  affability,  could  wheedle  from  Jock  Holiday,  who 
thereafter  became  mute  as  a  fish  on  the  subject  of  my  lord 
of  Godalming's  affairs. 

Sir  Batty  felt  like  a  man  who  has  lost  his  bearings  in 
a  maze,  who  strays  in  a  labyrinth  without  a  clue,  who  pores 
over  a  cypher  he  cannot  read. 

My  lord  of  Godalming  was  known  to  all  the  world  as  a 
man  of  great  possessions,  but  the  exact  range  of  those  pos- 
sessions was  the  knowledge  of  but  a  limited  few,  which 
hardly  extended  beyond  my  lord  himself  and  my  lord's 
lawyers  and  my  lord's  bailiff.  There  was  Godalming  House, 
my  lord's  ancestral  home ;  there  was  Pepper- Earning  which 
had  come  to  him  through  family  alliance  with  the  Trim- 
bulls  ;  there  was  Long  Loxley ;  there  were,  perhaps,  half 
a  dozen  others,  with  the  names  of  which  most  persons  who 
busied  themselves  about  the  welfare  of  the  great  were 
familiar.  Sir  Batty  asked  himself  anxiously  if  any  of  these 
ancient  and  famous  estates  would  be  the  spot  he  would 
choose  if  he  were  a  seventy-year-old  earl  betrothed  to  a 
twenty-year-old  maid,  to  hide  his  desirable  consort  in.  Very 
emphatically  he  shook  his  handsome  head  over  each  stately 


GONE— AND  LEFT  NO  SIGN  85 

mansion  in  turn.  He  could,  of  course,  try  each  of  them,  but 
he  knew  beforehand  that  his  search  would  be  fruitless.  If 
my  lord  was  wary  enough  to  whisk  his  coming  bride  so 
secretly  from  Court,  it  would  never  be  to  transfer  her  to 
some  spot  so  easy  of  access  as  any  one  of  these  stately  and 
conspicuous  dwelling-places. 

It  was  clear  that  Sir  Batty  had  to  look  elsewhere,  but 
he  did  not  know  which  way  to  look,  and  he  felt  like  a 
man  in  a  fog.  And  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  fortune  favoured 
him.  He  got  into  talk  with  an  aged  gentleman,  one  Lord 
Ambleham,  that  came  but  rarely  to  Court  and  lived  for 
the  most  part  on  his  own  estate  at  Finchley,  where  he  was 
devoting  the  evening  of  his  days  to  a  work  on  English 
Heraldry.  To  this  old  nobleman,  Sir  Batty,  hoping  against 
hope,  presented,  by  way  of  a  feeler,  the  name  of  Lord 
Godalming  and  the  story  of  the  fantastic  Court  romance. 
All  the  genealogist  in  the  old  nobleman  was  fired  by  the 
tale. 

"Save  for  the  disparity  of  years,"  he  pronounced,  "which 
is  great,  and  for  the  disparity  of  fortune,  which  is  greater, 
this  surprising  business  is  not  to  be  considered  as  a  mesal- 
liance. The  house  of  Godalming  is  a  great  house,  but  the 
family  of  Constant  is  truly  every  whit  as  good  in  a  herald's 
eyes.  Why  a  Constant  carried  two  blue  lions  of  silver  at 
Agincourt  before  ever  the  Godalmings  showed  a  device  to 
their  name." 

Sir  Batty  was  not  greatly  interested  in  all  this  heraldic 
talk.  Like  every  accomplished  gentleman  of  the  mode,  he 
could  trick  a  shield  with  precision  and  he  was  sufficiently 
acquainted  with  the  blazonry  of  his  own  house.  But  for 
the  moment  his  thoughts  were  too  amorous  for  such  erudi- 
tion, and  if  he  had  not  been  a  person  of  importance  at 
Court  who  knew  the  necessity  of  paying  proper  respect  to  an 
ancient  gentleman,  he  would  have  yawned  in  the  speaker's 
face.  If  he  had  by  any  possibility  committed  such  a  breach 
of  decorum  he  would  have  repented  of  it  and  delayed  it 
half  way  to  its  consummation  while  he  listened  with  gaping 
jaws,  to  the  conclusion  of  the  old  scholar's  remarks. 

"It  would  be  an  odd  thing,"  Lord  Ambleham  was  saying, 
"if  after  so  many  generations  a  Constant  should  again  be 
connected  with  King's  Welcome  that  was  theirs  in  days 


86  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

when  no  man  ever  dreamed  that  it  would  become  one  of 
the  manors  of  the  Fawleys." 

Sir  Batty  pricked  up  his  ears.  This  was  the  first  he  had 
heard  of  a  manor  house  in  the  Godalming  hands  that  went 
by  the  name  of  King's  Welcome. 

"Where  and  what  is  King's  Welcome?"  he  questioned 
with  an  air  of  indifference  that  he  did  not  feel. 

"Why,"  made  answer  Lord  Ambleham,  "King's  Welcome 
is  a  manor  house  in  Devonshire,  by  Plymouth  town.  The 
elder  branch  of  the  Constants  were  West  Country  folk 
in  those  days — I  am  speaking  of  the  days  of  Richard  Third 
— and  they  had  a  steward  named  Fawley,  who  espoused 
the  cause  of  Henry  Tudor  while  the  Constants,  both  of 
Devon  and  Kent,  stood  by  Dickon.  That  is  how  King's 
Welcome  fell  into  the  Fawley  fingers." 

Sir  Batty  was  very  polite  to  the  old  lord  during  the  re- 
mainder of  their  conversation,  which  he  artfully  directed 
into  channels  unconnected  with  the  Fawleys  and  the  Con- 
stants. But  he  parted  from  company  with  Lord  Ambleham 
in  a  very  contented,  hopeful  mood. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  TRIP  INTO  THE  COUNTRY 

JACK,"  said  Sir  Batty,  in  an  affectionate  tone  and  resting 
his  hand  affectionately  upon  his  companion's  shoulder, 
"your  poor  friend  is  ill." 

Mr.  Willoughby,  staring  in  some  surprise  at  the  smooth- 
ness and  ruddiness  of  his  friend's  countenance,  declared 
roundly  that  he  should  never  have  thought  it. 

"Yet  it  is  so,  and  so  it  is,"  persisted  Sir  Batty.  "I  am 
ill,  very  ill.  I  am  grown  sick  all  of  a  sudden  of  this  Court 
air  and  yearn  to  breathe  a  cleanlier  element." 

Mr.  Willoughby  looked  again  at  his  friend,  relative, 
patron,  as  if  he  were  tempted  to  inquire  what  the  devil 
he  would  be  at.  Mr.  Willoughby  had  a  great  admiration, 
even  a  veneration,  for  the  Master  of  the  Lesser  Revels, 
but  he  frankly  admitted  to  himself  that  he  did  not  always 
understand  him. 

"I  want  change  of  air,"  continued  Sir  Batty.  "I  want 
change  of  scene.  I  have  a  pastoral  spirit  upon  me,  and  long 
for  the  companionship  of  sheep.  Oh,  Jack,  you  cannot 
believe  how  hotly  I  long  for  the  companionship  of  sheep." 

It  was  early  in  the  day  when  this  dialogue  took  place. 
Also  Mr.  Willoughby  was  aware  that  his  illustrious  kins- 
man had  as  seasoned  a  head  for  wine  as  any  man  at  Court. 
Otherwise  Mr.  Willoughby  would  have  been  tempted  to 
infer  that  his  illustrious  kinsman  was  in  liquor. 

"No,  Jack,"  pursued  Sir  Batty,  reading  astonishment  in 
his  honest  friend's  face ;  "I  am  not  drunk,  and  also  I  am 
not  mad.  But  I  have  a  passion  for  the  country  that  has 
suddenly  come  upon  me,  and  you  know  that  I  am  always 
a  slave  to  my  passions." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Mr.  Willoughby,  in  his  somewhat 
obtuse  way,  was  under  the  impression  that  his  friend  at 
Court  could  control  his  passions  very  well  and  guide  them 
87 


88  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

for  his  own  purpose  with  a  sure  and  cool  hand.  But  he 
did  not  think  it  necessary  to  say  so,  and  having  nothing 
else  in  particular  to  say,  kept  silent. 

"Yes,"  persisted  Sir  Batty,  "I  must  get  me  into  the 
country.  I  must  feast  my  eyes  on  green  fields  and  enter- 
tain my  ears  with  purling  streams  and  rills.  I  am  not  exactly 
sure  what  purling  may  be,  but  'tis  a  term  all  fine  poets  use 
— indeed,  I  have  used  it  myself — and  so  I  must  immediately 
be  provided  with  purling  rills." 

Mr.  Willoughby  suggested  Hampstead.  Sir  Batty 
sneered.  Mr.  Willoughby  suggested  Tunbridge.  Sir  Batty 
laughed  disdainfully. 

"Why,  my  dear  friend,"  he  cried  in  a  blaze  of  protesta- 
tion, "you  advise  me  as  if  I  were  some  flat-capped  cit, 
some  alderman  or  shop-keeper  that  wishes  for  a  change 
from  his  stinking  booths  and  alleys.  I  want  to  go  far 
afield,  to  wander  in  the  wilds,  like  Amadis."  He  dropped 
all  of  a  sudden  his  coxcombical  manner,  and  it  was  in  a 
plain  and  natural  voice  that  he  put  a  question,  "You  have 
a  house  by  Tavistock,  as  I  believe,  Jack?" 

Mr.  Willoughby  began  now  to  have  some  idea  of  what 
his  friend  would  be  at.  He  certainly  had  a  house  by 
Tavistock  and  he  admitted  the  fact  somewhat  reluctantly, 
for  he  feared  what  was  coming  next.  And  it  came. 

"I  have  a  mind  to  ask  you  a  favour,  Jack,"  Sir  Batty 
began  again,  with  his  most  charming  smile.  "Or  rather, 
if  you  were  to  ask  me  to  pay  you  a  visit  at  your  house  by 
Tavistock  I  vow  and  protest  that,  for  your  dear  sake,  I 
should  not  refuse  you." 

Mr.  Willoughby  listened  somewhat  ruefully  to  this  sug- 
gestion. He  was  very  glad  to  be  in  London  and  to  move 
in  the  fringes  of  the  Court,  and  to  believe  that  he  was  con- 
verting himself  from  a  country  bumpkin  into  an  accom- 
plished cavalier.  Wherefore  he  did  not  at  all  desire  to 
return  to  his  sleepy  seat  of  Willoughby  Homing  near  Tavis- 
tock, which  he  hoped  he  had  said  good-bye  to  for  many  a 
long  day.  But  he  could  not  afford  to  disoblige  Sir  Batty, 
to  whom  he  owed  so  much  for  masterly  instruction  in  the 
arts  of  gaming,  drinking,  drabbing,  and  the  other  accom- 
plishments that  go  to  the  making  of  your  perfect  rake. 
Also,  as  he  reflected,  if  he  did  not  do  as  Sir  Batty  wished 


A  TRIP  INTO  THE  COUNTRY  89 

he  knew  Sir  Batty  well  enough  to  know  that  if  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  go  into  the  country,  into  the  country  he 
would  go,  and  there  would  he,  poor  Jack  Willoughby,  be 
left  stranded  in  town  without  his  mentor,  his  patron,  to  act 
as  his  sponsor  in  polite  society. 

"Why,  surely,"  he  said,  with  a  desperate  attempt  at 
cheerfulness,  which  Sir  Batty  noted  with  much  secret  en- 
tertainment, "I  should  be  happy  indeed  to  welcome  you  to 
my  poor  house,  though  I  promise  you,  upon  my  honour,  that 
you  will  find  it  grievously  dull." 

He  would  have  liked  to  add  that  he  too  would  find  it 
grievously  dull,  but  refrained,  fearing  that  to  do  so  would 
seem  inhospitable. 

"By  no  means,"  Sir  Batty  assured  him.  "By  no  means. 
I  am  never  dull  in  your  company,  my  dear  Jack,  and  lest 
you  should  by  any  chance  feel  that  you  might  find  a  dulness 
in  mine  I  have  very  little  doubt  that  you  could  persuade 
our  mutual  friend,  Spencer  Winwood,  to  make  one  in  our 
little  pastoral  party." 

Sir  Batty  had  no  doubt  about  the  matter  because  he 
had  already  settled  it  at  all  points  with  Spencer  Winwood. 
That  gentleman  was  quite  agreeable  to  the  proposition  to 
spend  a  certain  number  of  secluded  days  in  Mr.  Wil- 
loughby's  company  at  Mr.  Willoughby's  country  seat,  that 
he  might,  at  his  ease,  and  at  his  host's  expense,  occupy 
himself  in  plucking  him.  Mr.  Willoughby,  who  did  not 
know  this,  accepted  the  suggestion  readily  enough.  It 
would  be,  he  felt,  no  small  distinction  to  such  a  countryman 
as  himself  to  entertain  two  such  fine  town  birds  as  Sir  Batty 
and  Mr.  Winwood. 

"Then  that's  all  settled,"  said  Sir  Batty  pleasantly,  "and 
the  sooner  we  set  out  upon  our  little  jaunt  the  better  I 
shall  be  pleased.  Upon  my  honour,  Jack,  you  have  no  idea 
of  what  a  good  turn  you  are  doing  me.  A  little  more,  only 
a  little  more,  and  I  solemnly  asseverate  that  I  should  have 
died  of  suffocation,  stifled  by  the  vile  fumes  of  this  intoler- 
able city." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  COACH  AND  FOUR 

IT  was  not  a  way  with  Clarenda  to  indulge  ever  in  much 
self-communion  or  to  cogitate  profoundly  on  the  course 
of  her  fortunes.  So  long  as  things  went  pleasantly  with 
her  she  was  content  to  be  pleased  and  to  leave  reflection 
and  meditation  on  one  side.  Of  course  even  the  flightiest 
of  maidens  must  sometimes  give  a  passing  thought  to  her 
situation,  when  it  happens  to  be  so  odd  a  situation  as  that 
of  Clarenda,  but  Clarenda  did  no  more  than  she  could  help 
in  this  regard.  It  seemed  to  be  settled  that  she  was  to  marry 
my  lord  Godalming,  and  the  marriage  meant  great  worldly 
advantage  to  her  and  her  family,  and  she  let  her  fancy 
linger  as  little  as  possible  upon  the  knowledge  that  Lord 
Godalming  was  over  seventy  years  of  age.  This  she  could 
do  the  more  easily  because  he  was  not  by  to  remind  her  of 
the  fact  or  to  force  her  into  unwelcome  reflection  upon  the 
discomforts,  to  say  no  more,  that  must  needs  arise  from  a 
union  between  two  persons  with  such  a  disparity  of  years. 
After  all,  until  the  mooted  marriage  was  a  nearer  matter 
it  was  not  worth  while  to  dwell  too  insistently  upon  its 
obvious  disadvantages.  The  wiser  course  was  to  make  the 
most  and  the  best  of  her  fortune  in  being  chosen  for  so 
exalted  a  position  as  that  of  Countess  of  Godalming. 

It  may  be  that  after  a  time  Mistress  Clarenda  found  the 
grandeur  of  King's  Welcome  a  little  too  grandiose  for  her 
levity  and  caprice.  At  the  beginning  she  felt  the  natural 
sense  of  exultation  that  a  poor  girl  must  feel  who  finds 
herself  as  if  by  magic  in  command  of  a  great  country  house 
and  a  legion  of  servitors.  But  when  the  novelty  had  be- 
gun to  tarnish,  when  she  had  invaded  every  room  and 
stared  at  every  picture,  when  she  had  paced  every  terrace, 
raced  over  every  lawn  and  penetrated  every  glade,  she 
began  to  think  that  she  knew  King's  Welcome  pretty  much 
90 


A  COACH  AND  FOUR  91 

by  heart  and  that  though  King's  Welcome  was  of  excel- 
lence in  its  way  it  was  not  altogether  her  way.  It  was 
really  too  big  for  her  vivacity  to  feel  at  ease  in.  She  wanted 
something  brighter  and  livelier  as  a  background  to  her  dis- 
ports; she  likened  herself  to  a  humming-bird  in  a  cage  of 
steel.  Then  she  remembered  that  though  she  was  not  free 
to  return  to  London  until  my  lord  gave  the  signal,  she 
was  free  to  wander  at  her  will  within  the  limits  of  the  West 
Country.  Being  a  country  girl  she  was  a  good  walker  and 
a  good  rider,  but  now  the  fancy  took  her  that  she  would 
like  to  ride  in  a  coach  and  four. 

She  did  not  feel  sufficient  confidence  in  her  empire  over 
King's  Welcome  to  command  a  coach  without  consulta- 
tion with  my  lord.  So  a  letter  was  written  setting  forth 
this  desire  of  Clarenda's  and  addressed  to  my  lord  in 
London  and  entrusted  to  a  courier  who  was  bidden  to  ride 
as  if  he  rode  on  affairs  of  state.  And  so  he  did  ride  through 
fair  and  foul,  over  rough  and  smooth,  till  he  changed  his 
last  post  and  stood  in  the  presence  of  my  lord  of  Godalming. 
My  lord  read  the  letter  and  straightway  seating  himself  at 
his  desk  he  brushed  aside  an  armful  of  state  papers  and 
wrote  an  instant  reply  to  his  betrothed.  This  he  delivered 
to  the  courier,  bidding  him  return  with  the  utmost  speed, 
till  he  gave  the  letter  into  the  lady's  hands.  And  once  again 
the  courier  galloped  over  rough  and  smooth,  through  fair 
and  foul,  until  he  sighted  the  towers  of  King's  Welcome, 
and  without  heeding  his  dust  and  sweat  delivered  his  letter 
to  an  impatient  lady  who  had  been  counting  the  hours  to 
his  return.  Clarenda  dismissed  the  courier  with  a  smile  of 
thanks,  and  then  all  in  a  hurry  and  a  flurry  she  broke  the 
seal,  opened  the  paper,  and  in  a  twitter  of  excitement  read 
what  my  lord  had  to  say. 

"My  dear  child,"  thus  the  letter  began,  "I  have  to  thank 
you  for  the  honour  you  have  done  me  in  writing  to  me, 
an  honour  which  I  feel  none  the  less  greatly  because  it 
was  unnecessary  save  in  so  far  as  it  satisfied  your  own 
gracious  spirit,  and  because  it  was,  in  so  far  as  it  concerns 
me,  wholly  undeserved.  Let  me  assure  you,  once  and  for 
all,  that  so  long  as  our  present  relations  persevere  you  are 
absolute  mistress  of  King's  Welcome  and  of  any  use  to 


92  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

which  you  may  please  to  put  such  poor  fortune  as  I  com- 
mand. I  am  happy  in  the  command  of  it  so  long  as  it  can 
serve  to  give  you  pleasure,  for  I  have  always  held  that 
wealth  is  in  itself  but  a  mean  thing  and  little  to  be  rejoiced 
over  unless  it  is  employed  in  some  worthy  usage.  And  what 
usage  can  be  more  worthy  than  to  give  satisfaction  to  a 
lady  whom  I  esteem  so  dearly  and  whose  servant  I  am  proud 
to  subscribe  myself.  Act  in  all  things  according  to  the  sum- 
mons of  your  judgment  and  assure  yourself  once  again — if 
further  assurance  be  needed  between  you  and  me — that 
whatever  you  may  choose  to  do,  even  in  far  greater  mat- 
ters than  the  setting  up  of  a  coach,  will  always  have  the 
approval  of  your  humble  and  faithful  servant  ever, 

.  "GODALMING." 

It  might  have  done  my  lord  good  if  he  could  have  wit- 
nessed the  delight  of  the  maid  as  she  read  this  most  amiable 
of  epistles.  She  sang,  she  jigged,  she  skipped,  she  floated 
around  the  room  clapping  her  hands  like  a  child  in  a  whirl 
of  delight.  It  was  not  merely  satisfaction  at  the  promise  of 
her  coveted  toy,  her  golden  coach,  though  that  same  satis- 
faction was  a  very  warm  feeling  indeed.  It  was  the  formal 
confirmation,  in  words  like  milk  and  honey,  of  my  lord's 
gracious  assurances  to  her  before  she  set  out  from  London. 
With  the  readily  quickened  doubts  of  the  young  in  the  flow- 
ing assurances  of  their  elders  the  girl  had  been  tempted  to 
discount  very  liberally  the  fair  protestations  of  my  lord. 
But  now  here  they  were,  renewed  and  confirmed  under  his 
own  hand  and  seal  and  the  whole  done  in  such  terms  of 
compliment  and  courtesy  as  seemed  to  perfume  the  paper 
they  covered.  My  lord  now  seemed  to  her  like  some  fairy 
godfather  in  a  fairy  tale.  She  had  often  heard  of  fairy  god- 
mothers but  never  of  a  fairy  godfather  and  she  liked  the 
appellation,  for  her  fairy  godfather  certainly  had  the  powers 
attributed  to  fairy  relatives  of  whatever  degree,  of  con- 
ferring inestimable  gifts  and  privileges  upon  their  fa- 
vourites. 

Instantly  Plymouth  coach-builders  were  set  going  and 
in  the  fulness  of  time  Clarenda's  coach  came  into  being. 
It  certainly  was  a  very  magnificent  vehicle.  It  was  so  pro- 
fusely gilded  that  it  might  very  well  be  taken  at  first  glance 


A  COACH  AND  FOUR  93 

as  fashioned  of  the  precious  metal  itself  and  it  was  only 
after  the  first  glance  had  done  winking  and  got  used  to 
the  brilliance  that  the  substance  after  all  proved  to  be  no 
more  than  honest  English  wood.  Inside  there  were  the 
most  luxurious  seats  and  cushions  that  ease  could  wish  or 
skill  devise,  all  upholstered  in  the  choicest  brocades  and 
velvets,  and  all  the  metal  fittings  were  of  silver-gilt,  ex- 
quisitely wrought.  The  under  roof  of  the  coach — its  ceil- 
ing as  it  were — was  painted  with  a  world  of  chubby  little 
Loves  that  seemed  to  be  hurling  themselves  through  a 
canopy  of  delicately  tinted  clouds  that  they  might  pelt  the 
fair  occupant  of  the  coach  with  roses,  of  which  odorous 
ammunition  they  carried  abundance  in  their  plump  arms. 
Clarenda  laughed  till  she  cried  and  cried  till  she  laughed  at 
the  first  sight  of  her  splendid  equipage,  with  its  four  noble 
dapples  and  its  great  coachman  on  his  hammercloth  as 
solemn  and  globular  as  Humpty  Dumpty  on  his  wall.  "In 
such  a  coach  and  four,"  she  cried  to  her  patient  elder, 
moved  herself  to  smiles  by  the  girl's  delight,  "in  such  a 
coach  and  four  I  could  drive  into  fairyland." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

LOVE  IN  A  WOOD 

HERCULES  and  Philemon  descended  the  stairs  and  is- 
sued into  the  sweet  air.  They  made  almost  as  marked 
a  contrast,  where  they  walked  side  by  side,  as  Hercules 
and  his  shipmate  had  afforded  on  the  deck  of  The  Golden 
Hart.  For  Philemon  was  slender  and  pale  with  delicacy 
in  his  face  and  fragility  in  his  form,  and  the  beauty  of  his 
face  was  often  shadowed  by  an  expression  of  dejection. 
As  he  walked,  the  limp  with  which  he  had  been  born  was 
sufficiently  notable  though  the  young  man  took  great  pains 
to  dissimulate  it  as  much  as  possible.  Hercules,  remember- 
ing the  infirmity,  strolled  at  a  leisurely  pace  to  lessen  the 
inconvenience  to  his  friend,  and  the  pair  walked  along  the 
Hoe  conversing  blithely. 

The  day  was  fair  enough  and  fine  enough  of  itself  to 
justify  blitheness.  It  was  one  of  those  days  when  late 
spring  seems  to  recover  with  an  effort  the  rapture  of  its 
youth  with  the  pallor  of  its  skies,  the  clarity  of  its  air,  the 
pungency  of  its  odours  and  the  tingling  influences  of  the 
waking  year.  "This  might  be  an  April  morning,"  Philemon 
said  as  the  pair  strode  out  into  its  cool  blues  and  lucid 
golds  and  surveyed  a  world  that  looked  as  if  it  had  just 
washed  its  face.  "It  is  a  good  morning  to  welcome  a  home- 
comer." 

"One  of  the  joys  of  home-coming  is  to  find  that  the  place 
one  loves  has  changed  but  little,"  said  Hercules. 

"I  should  not  think  that  Plymouth  was  greatly  given  to 
change,"  Philemon  commented. 

"Nay  now,"  protested  Hercules,  "you  must  not  say  we 
are  sluggish  in   Plymouth.     Here,   where  we   walk,   well 
nigh  every  house  is  a  familiar  friend  whom  I  can  salute 
as  if  it  were  a  sentient  being." 
94 


LOVE  IN  A  WOOD  95 

"Houses,  like  books,  have  their  fates,"  murmured 
Philemon.  Hercules  pursued  his  reflections. 

"There  is  the  house  of  the  tailor  that  built  me  my  first 
pair  of  breeches.  A  son  of  his  now  rules  the  goose  there. 
In  yonder  house  with  the  yellow  face  that  looks  as  if  it 
were  of  a  mind  to  topple  into  the  street  a  girl  lived  whose 
beauty  called  to  my  dawning  senses.  There  is  the  very 
window  from  which  I  first  saw  her  lean  out  and  look  into 
the  street  and  catch  my  admiring  eye  and  shake  her  curls 
at  me." 

"What  became  of  her  ?"  questioned  Philemon. 

"Oh,"  replied  Hercules,  "she  married  the  tailor's  son,  and 
now  shows  at  other  windows  a  buxom  florid  motherly 
face." 

Philemon  laid  an  arresting  hand  on  his  companion's  arm. 

"Here  we  are  at  the  'Dolphin,'  "  he  said. 

The  "Dolphin"  stood  at  the  farther  end  of  the  Hoe,  hard 
by  the  waterside.  It  was  not  a  hostelry  to  which  fashion- 
able visitors  from  Exeter  or  London  would  resort.  These 
would  take  up  their  quarters  further  inland  at  the  house 
which  called  itself  "The  Royal  Glory,"  and  showed  the  face 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  amazingly  flattered,  with  rays  all  round 
her  head,  like  the  conventional  presentation  of  the  sun. 
But  all  seafaring  men  that  knew  their  business  used  the 
"Dolphin,"  loved  the  "Dolphin,"  swore  by  the  "Dolphin." 
There  was  no  other  such  comfortable  tavern  in  the  world, 
they  would  protest;  no  such  vintages  were  stored  in  other 
cellars ;  no  such  ale,  no  such  brandy  could  be  swigged  or 
sipped  elsewhere.  It  was  the  latest  place  your  last  sea- 
captain  would  visit  ere  he  scaled  his  vessel's  side  to  sail 
over  the  vast  ocean  to  his  chosen  quarter  of  the  globe.  It 
was  the  first  place  to  which  he  would  turn  his  deck-weary 
feet  when  he  won  his  way  home  again. 

It  was  nothing  very  wonderful  to  look  at,  sturdily  built 
and  well  timbered  and  almost  of  a  wine  colour  with  age, 
as  if  the  noble  liquors  it  had  stored  and  squandered  in  all 
its  years  had  somehow  oozed  their  way  into  brick  and  beam 
and  mellowed  both  to  a  ruddy  hue.  Its  outside  certainly 
suggested  comfort  and  seemed  to  promise  hospitality,  but 
nothing  like  such  comfort  and  hospitality  as  the  inside  really 
afforded.  Warm  corridors,  cosy  bed-chambers,  jovial  par- 


96  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

lours,  all  were  to  be  found  at  the  "Dolphin."  It  ran  a  great 
way  back  around  its  court  and  thus  proved  larger  than  its 
front  implied,  so  that  it  could  house  if  occasion  required 
the  company  of  an  admiral's  galley. 

"I  remember,"  said  Hercules,  as  he  and  his  friend  halted 
in  front  of  the  building  with  its  ancient  faded  sign,  "the 
day  when  I  was  first  taken  hither  by  my  uncle.  He  brought 
me  into  the  parlour  where  the  sea-captains  congregated,  and 
there  he  set  me  between  his  legs  and  treated  me  to  my  first 
sip  of  sack.  It  made  me  so  drowsy,  as  I  recall,  that  the 
talk  around  me  grew  as  vaporous  as  a  dream." 

"I  fear  me  that  you  found  your  way  here  easily  enough 
thereafter,"  said  Philemon  with  a  faint  smile. 

"In  good  faith  I  did,"  said  Hercules.  "I  became  a  sea- 
captain  myself  in  the  fulness  of  time  and  one  of  the 
'Dolphin's'  brotherhood.  I  have  always  found  a  welcome 
here/' 

"Let  us  see  what  welcome  we  find  here  to-day,"  said 
Philemon,  and  was  making  for  the  door  when  Hercules  re- 
strained him. 

"No,  lad,  no,"  he  said  decisively.  "Let  us  keep  to  our 
purpose.  We  have  agreed  to  give  the  'Dolphin'  the  go-by 
on  this  journey  so  let  us  stick  to  our  agreement." 

Philemon  yielded  with  a  sigh  and  a  smile  and  the  pair 
resumed  their  walk. 

They  were  soon  in  the  open  country  and  diverged  from 
the  main  road  into  a  somewhat  narrower  path  that  followed 
a  gentle  slope  and  skirted  a  little  wood  which  fringed  it 
like  the  plumage  on  an  Indian  crest.  As  they  ascended, 
enjoying  the  freshness  of  the  morning,  it  pleased  Hercules 
to  expatiate  upon  the  merits  of  the  West  Country. 

"Where  else,"  he  asked,  "is  grass  so  green,  where  else 
are  the  hedges  so  sweet  scented,  where  else  are  trees  so 
noble,  where  else  do  the  birds  sing  so  lively  in  their  choir  ?" 
Without  giving  Philemon  time  to  answer  he  shouted  aloud 
a  "nowhere"  in  reply  to  these  questions  as  they  floated 
from  his  lips. 

At  that  moment  the  pedestrians  became  aware  of  the 
sound  of  voices  raised  much  aloud  and  high  in  anger.  The 
noise  the  voices  made  sounded  from  their  unseen  arena 
in  the  thick  of  the  coppice  to  be  more  like  the  cluttering 


LOVE  IN  A  WOOD 


97 


of  angry  poultry  or  the  squallings  of  Grimalkin  than  the 
utterances  of  human  throats,  but  it  was  so  noisy  and 
so  persistent  that  it  aroused  Hercules'  curiosity  and 
determined  him  to  find  out  whence  it  came  and  what  it 
meant. 

He  and  Philemon,  therefore,  quitted  the  pathway  -and 
dipped  into  the  twilight  of  the  little  wood  whose  floor  was 
covered  with  a  kind  of  moss-like  grass  that  made  a  carpet 
for  the  feet  as  thick  and  soft  as  any  velvet  pile.  As  this 
made  the  going  of  the  pair  noiseless  they  could  hear  the 
screaming  voices  growing  louder  without  themselves  being 
heard,  and  as  the  clamour  waxed  they  increased  their  pace 
to  a  swift  trot  which  presently  brought  them  to  a  stop  as 
they  discovered  the  cause  of  the  vociferation. 

The  friends  came  to  a  halt  on  the  edge  of  a  hollow  which 
was  fringed  around  the  lip  with  trees.  On  the  flatter 
ground  at  the  bottom  of  the  hollow  a  couple  of  men  were 
standing  facing  one  another  who  were  making  the  horrid 
sounds  that  had  so  startled  the  serenity  of  the  woods. 
Each  man  had,  with  his  left  hand,  taken  a  firm  grip  of 
the  beard  of  the  other,  and  each  man  was  busily  engaged 
with  his  right  hand,  either  in  endeavouring  to  belabour 
the  crown  or  countenance  of  the  other  or  to  ward  off  blows 
delivered  at  his  own  crown  or  countenance.  And  while 
they  acted  thus,  staggering  hither  and  thither,  tugging  and 
thumping,  the  pair  kept  up  an  incessant  ape-like  chattering 
that  was  very  strident  and  dislikeable. 

Hercules,  who  had  the  rapid  take-in  of  the  seaman,  com- 
prehended the  whole  ridiculous  situation  at  a  swift  survey. 
An  open  wallet  on  the  slope,  some  hunches  of  bread  and  a 
flagon,  suggested  that  the  belligerents  had  been  engaged 
upon  the  business  of  breaking  their  fast  before  they  took 
to  brawling.  Their  habit,  which  was  of  a  plain  comfortable 
fashion,  showed  them  to  be  more  simple  than  gentle.  On 
the  slope,  by  the  discarded  banquet,  lay  a  canvas  bag  that 
seemed  to  conceal  a  lute  and  near  it  was  a  small  leathern 
kit-case.  From  these  two  objects  it  was  easy  to  infer  that 
the  quarrellers  were  musicians  of  some  kind,  though  there 
was  nothing  musical  in  the  shrieks  with  which  they  ex- 
pressed their  fury.  Also  it  was  easy  to  see  that  they  were 
not  habitually  men  of  wrath,  for  though  they  swung  their 


98  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

disengaged  arms  lustily  it  was  obvious  that  they  were  doing 
each  other  very  little  harm. 

Hercules  and  Philemon  watched  them  for  a  few  seconds 
with  an  amused  interest,  while  they,  all  unconscious  of 
observation,  continued  to  lug  and  pommel  and  jabber  at 
the  top  of  their  compass.  Then  finding  that  the  entertain- 
ment threatened  to  be  monotonous,  Hercules  decided  to 
intervene. 

He  was  down  the  side  of  the  slope  and  upon  the  strug- 
gling pair  before  either  of  them  was  aware  of  his  presence. 
Philemon  followed  his  friend  at  a  more  leisurely  pace. 

"Good  sirs,"  Hercules  cried,  "why  do  you  conduct  your- 
selves in  this  unchristian  fashion?" 

The  two  disputants,  startled  by  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
turned  their  heads  in  his  direction,  but  neither  abandoned 
his  clutch  of  the  other's  beard  and  neither  ceased  to  saw 
the  air  with  his  fighting  hand.  The  only  difference  that 
Master  Flood's  intervention  made  was  that  they  ceased 
to  vituperate  each  other.  Instead  of  their  former  shrillness 
they  fell  into  a  dead  silence,  which  seemed  somehow  even 
a  more  ludicrous  accompaniment  to  their  struggles.  Silent 
they  stared  at  the  stranger,  and  silent  they  continued  their 
fisticuffs. 

"Good  sirs,"  said  Hercules  again,  "pray  suspend  these 
strange  hostilities  and  instruct  me  in  the  cause  of  your 
difference." 

Then  seeing  that  they  paid  him  no  heed  and  indeed 
from  their  rage  or  from  some  other  cause  they  did  not 
seem  to  understand  him,  Hercules  caught  each  of  the  wran- 
glers by  the  collar  of  his  jerkin  and  so  pulled  them  apart 
as  easily  as  he  would  have  shelled  a  peascod. 

Keeping  a  firm  grip  on  his  prisoners,  Hercules  lowered 
himself  to  the  earth  and  drawing  the  combatants  with  him, 
very  much  against  their  will,  he  seated  himself  comfort- 
ably upon  the  soft  grass  and  plumped  them  down,  with  less 
regard  for  their  comfort,  beside  him.  Philemon,  a  little 
behind,  followed  Hercules'  example  in  seating  himself  upon 
the  slope,  and  with  his  hands  clasped  round  his  knees 
watched  what  followed. 

As  Hercules  looked  more  closely  into  the  swarthy  coun- 
tenances of  the  brawlers  he  realised  that  these  were  no  Eng- 


LOVE  IN  A  WOOD  99 

lishmen,  but  men  of  foreign  blood  and  he  understood  why 
their  squallings  had  seemed  unfamiliar. 

"Now,  sirs,"  he  said  peremptorily,  "have  the  goodness 
to  tell  me  what  fool's  game  you  play  here,  and  by  what 
right  you  dare  to  insult  God's  own  country  with  your 
antics  ?" 

As  neither  of  the  belligerents  still  made  him  any  answer, 
Hercules  was  inclined  to  frown  until  he  discovered  that 
he  was  holding  the  two  men  so  tightly  by  the  collars  of 
their  coats  that  his  knuckles  left  them  no  breath  to  speak — 
not  indeed  that  they  could  have  had  much  breath  to  use 
after  all  they  had  wasted — and  that  they  might  only  respond 
by  gaping  at  him  piteously.  Hercules  released  his  hold  upon 
them  and  they  both  flopped  forward  upon  the  grass  and 
lay  there  for  a  while,  panting  and  gasping.  It  was  very 
plain  that  they  were  not  used  to  such  encounters  as  Master 
Flood  had  just  interrupted. 

Hercules  surveyed  the  sprawling  pair  with  amusement 
and  disapproval. 

"Now,  my  merry  friends,"  he  said,  "when  you  have 
garnered  your  winds  I  shall  be  pleased  if  you  will  deliver 
me  the  secret  of  your  demeanour." 

He  addressed  the  pair  in  English,  having  as  yet  no 
means  of  guessing  what  their  native  speech  might  be,  and 
in  English,  of  a  sort,  one  of  the  men,  the  longer  and  the 
leaner  of  the  pair,  answered  him,  but  an  English  so  broken 
and  bemuddled  that  Hercules  was  fain  to  be  free  of  it.  So, 
as  he  guessed  the  man's  nationality  by  this  time,  he  ad- 
dressed him  in  very  fluent  French  delivered  with  an  honest 
English  accent. 

"God  save  you,"  he  said,  "but  I  think  you  will  make 
your  story  the  clearer  if  you  speak  it  in  your  own  speech." 
He  gave  a  jerk  of  his  head  to  the  other  combatant.  "Is 
your  friend  here  a  Frenchman?"  he  questioned. 

The  man  thus  indicated  struggled  to  assume  a  sitting 
posture  and  as  dignified  a  manner  as  he  could  command. 

"Sono  Italiano,"  he  said  solemnly. 

"Oh,  you  are  Italian,"  said  Hercules,  speaking  a  sort 
of  seashore  Italian  as  fluently  as  his  French  and  with  the 
same  sturdy  British  utterance.  He  turned  to  the  French- 
man and  questioned  him. 


ioo  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"Do  you  speak  Italian?" 

The  Frenchman  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  shook  his 
head. 

"Why  should  I  speak  Italian,"  he  said,  "when  the  good 
God  has  permitted  me  to  speak  French?" 

Hercules  saw  a  glare  in  the  Italian's  eyes  and  felt 
that  the  question  he  was  about  to  put  was  already  an- 
swered. But  he  put  it  none  the  less.  "Do  you  speak 
French?" 

"I  speak  it  a  little,"  the  Italian  answered,  grudgingly,  "and 
I  understand  it  quite  well.  It  is  the  language  of  mounte- 
banks but  it  is  useful  in  travel." 

As  the  Frenchman  made  a  minatory  movement  which 
suggested  his  immediate  intention  of  flying  at  the  Italian's 
throat,  Hercules  lifted  a  warning  hand,  the  mere  sight  of 
which  was  sufficient  to  restrain  him  without  the  added  in- 
fluence of  its  weight.  Then  he  addressed  him. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "since  we  can  all  understand  one  an- 
other in  French,  tell  me,  without  further  delay,  what  you 
were  doing  here  a-pulling  of  each  other's  beards?" 

"We  had  quarrelled,"  said  the  Frenchman  sourly,  "that 
pig  of  Italy  and  I." 

"Pig  of  Italy,"  echoed  the  Italian  with  a  scream.  "Frog 
of  France,  toad  of  France,  flea  of  France,  louse  of  France." 

He  was  moving  on  his  hands  and  knees,  as  he  screamed, 
towards  the  Frenchman,  who,  on  his  side,  was  doing  the 
like,  with  his  mouth  opened  wide  for  the  delivery  of  new 
injuries.  But  before  they  could  come  to  grips  again, 
Hercules  had  silenced  both  of  them  by  clapping  his  palms 
across  their  gaping  jaws  and  then,  with  no  show  of  exertion, 
he  exended  his  arms  and  laid  the  bellicose  rivals  flatlings 
on  their  backs.  Philemon  in  the  background  laughed 
heartily. 

"My  friends,"  said  Hercules  gravely,  as  he  dried  his 
palms  upon  the  grass,  "I  have  but  one  word  for  you  and 
that  is  'pax/  which  being  interpreted  signifies  peace.  I 
have  asked  our  French  friend  here  to  tell  me  the  history 
of  this  squabble  or  scuffle  or  whatsoever  you  may  please 
to  term  it.  When  he  has  said  his  say,  but  not  until  he  has 
said  his  say,  you  will  be  free  to  give  your  version  of  the 
business.  And  I  advise  each  of  you  to  carry  himself  dis- 


LOVE  IN  A  WOOD  101 

erectly  during  the  course  of  our  little  congress,  for  if  he 
fail  to  do  so  it  may  possibly  be  the  worse  for  him." 

The  foreigners  seemed  to  be  impressed  alike  by  the  force 
of  Master  Flood's  speech  and  the  strength  of  Master  Flood's 
fingers,  for  when  they  had  struggled  anew  to  a  sitting 
posture,  they  contented  themselves  with  expressing  their 
animosity  by  the  shooting  of  angry  glances  across  Master 
Flood's  person.  But  they  uttered  no  challenge  and  they 
lifted  no  finger  in  menace. 

"Begin,  Mounseer,"  said  Hercules  politely.  "Tell  me 
why  you  and  the  illustrissimo  here  were  tweaking  of  one 
another's  chins  and  boxing  of  one  another's  ears  like  a 
brace  of  apes." 

"It  was  the  old,  old  quarrel,"  said  the  Frenchman  gravely, 
"and  the  old,  old  cause.  It  is  possible  that  your  honour 
may  have  heard  tell  of  Helen  of  Troy." 

Hercules  knitted  his  forehead  and  raked  among  his 
memories. 

"I  remember  her  name,"  he  said,  "but  I  had  it  in  my 
mind  that  she  lived  in  Paris." 

"Your  honour  has  the  gist  of  the  matter,"  answered  the 
Frenchman  affably.  "She  was  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  the  world  while  she  lived." 

"In  Paris?"  questioned  Hercules. 

"Or  thereabouts,"  replied  the  Frenchman  with  discre- 
tion. "And  all  the  men  brawled  about  her  beauty.  And 
behold  she  has  come  to  life  again  and  all  men  brawl  as 
before." 

Hercules  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"Who  is  this  nonpareil  you  talk  of?"  he  asked.  "I  have 
seen  no  such  wonder  in  these  parts  since  I  came  home 
from  sea." 

"I  would  do  well  not  to  tell  you,"  the  Frenchman  re- 
plied sadly,  "for  if  you  were  to  see  her,  you  would  of  neces- 
sity suffer  as  I  have  suffered  and  as  that  spawn  of  Italy 
yonder  professes  to  have  suffered." 

"Professes!"  yelled  the  Italian,  "Ye  Gods,  professes. 
Why,  you  trash  of  France " 

Words  seemed  to  fail  the  needs  of  his  indignation  and 
he  was  making  to  scramble  to  his  feet  again  and  fall  upon 
his  enemy.  But  the  heavy  hand  of  Hercules  descended 


102  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

upon  his  shoulder  and  he  changed  his  mind  and  kept  his 
place  and  the  peace. 

"I  very  devoutly  hope  and  believe,"  said  Hercules,  "that 
if  I  were  to  encounter  this  amazing  lady  and  were  to  find 
her  as  lovely  as  you  assert  and  even  lovelier  I  should  make 
no  such  fool  of  myself  as  you  have  made,  and  your  friend 
here." 

"Friend !"  ejaculated  the  Italian,  "friend.  He  is  no  friend 
of  mine.  Only  my  only  enemy.  I  could  eat  his  liver  in 
a  pie." 

"And  I  could  eat  your  heart  raw,"  retorted  the  French- 
man, shaking  with  fury,  but  making  no  movement  under 
the  warning  of  Hercules'  uplifted  finger. 

"You  are  a  queer  brace  of  mountebanks,"  commented 
Hercules,  surveying  the  quarrellers  with  considerable  amuse- 
ment. "Now  what  may  your  trade  be?"  This  to  the 
Gaul. 

"I  am  a  dancing  master/'  said  the  Frenchman,  with  his 
hand  to  his  breast,  "very  much  at  your  service." 

"I  fear  I  shall  have  little  need  of  you,"  said  Hercules. 
"I  can  pass  muster  in  a  country  dance  and  I  can  foot  it 
in  a  seaman's  jig  as  well  as  another,  and  so  much  must 
serve  my  turn."  He  turned  to  the  Italian.  "And  you,  sir, 
what  may  be  your  business  in  life?" 

"I  give  instruction  on  the  lute,"  the  Italian  answered, 
"and  how  to  sing  to  it.  And  I  also  am  very  much  at  your 
service." 

"I  can  sing  a  sailor's  shanty,"  replied  Hercules,  "and  I 
can  pick  at  the  strings  with  sufficient  skill  to  make  the 
noise  for  it,  and  that  is  enough  for  me  at  the  present,  so 
I  will  not  trouble  your  ability.  But  I  will  tell  you  both, 
here  and  now,  that  I  who  am  neither  a  dancing-master  nor 
a  lute-player,  but  have  the  honour  to  be  a  seafarer,  am  not 
made  of  such  base  metal  as  shall  melt  at  the  sight  of  a 
girl's  face." 

"You  have  not  seen  this  girl's  face,"  persisted  the 
Frenchman. 

"If  you  say  that  again,"  said  Hercules,  "I  may  have  a 
mind  to  be  vexed  with  you.  And  now  deliver  me  your 
story  plainly  that  I  may  know  what  to  make  of  it." 

Thereupon,  with  great  volubility,  the  Frenchman  began 


LOVE  IN  A  WOOD  103 

a  long,  rambling  and  somewhat  incoherent  narrative,  which 
was  not  rendered  the  more  coherent  by  the  frequent  inter- 
ruptions and  emendations  and  additions  of  the  Italian  lute- 
player.  But  out  of  the  whole  imbroglio  of  speech,  with  its 
flowery  phrases  and  its  sighs  and  suspirations,  Hercules 
managed  to  gather  a  certain  handful  of  facts.  It  seemed 
that  there  was  a  young  lady  of  great  personal  attractions 
who  was  living  in  a  great  house  near  Plymouth  under  the 
charge  of  an  ancient  lady  of  noble  birth  and  reduced  for- 
tunes. This  young  lady  was,  it  seemed,  the  daughter,  or 
the  niece,  or  the  ward — neither  the  Frenchman  nor  the 
Italian  was  quite  certain  which,  but,  as  Hercules  observed, 
it  did  not  matter — of  a  great  noble  of  the  Court  of  the 
great  Queen.  And  this  great  noble,  having  wished  that  his 
daughter,  or  niece,  or  ward,  should  be  as  perfect  in  the  arts 
of  life  as  she  was  already  perfect  in  physical  gifts,  had 
very  naturally  decided  to  give  her  the  advantage  of  the 
instruction  of  the  dancing-master  and  the  lutanist  there 
present.  But  the  young  lady  was  so  lovely  that  no  sus- 
ceptible heart  could  resist  her  charms,  no,  nor  even  a  savage 
one  surely,  for  it  must  needs  soften  under  her  influence. 
Therefore  the  dancing-master  and  the  lute-master  fell  vic- 
tims to  this  siren  and  were  pleased  to  consider  themselves 
as  rivals,  and  were  for  tasting  one  another's  blood  with  un- 
familiar weapons,  and  were  incontinently  bundled  out  of 
the  great  house  for  their  pains. 

Hercules  listened  to  all  this  confused  narrative  with  a 
great  deal  of  amusement.  When  the  dancing-master  had 
made  an  end  he  questioned  him. 

"But  since  you  were,  as  I  gather,  incontinently  and  def- 
initely dismissed  from  the  vicinity  of  this  she-marvel,  how 
comes  it  that  I  found  you  both  brawling  here  just  now  and 
cuffing  of  one  another's  chops.  The  lady  is  out  of  your 
star  and  you  cannot  compete  for  her.  It  is  as  if  two  dogs 
should  fight  for  the  moon." 

The  dancing-master  made  an  apologetic  gesture  with  his 
hands. 

"With  your  favour,  sir,  it  is  indeed  true  that  we  cannot 
compete  for  the  lady.  Yet  because  of  her  we  still  had 
cause  for  contest." 

"What  was  your  cause,  in  Heaven's  name  ?"  asked  Hercu- 


104  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

les,  with  as  grave  a  countenance  as  he  could  compass.  The 
dancing-master  bowed  again  and  explained. 

"Why,  I  and  that  pig  of  Italy  quitted  our  paradise  to- 
gether in  seeming  friendship  on  account  of  our  common 
misfortune.  But  our  show  of  friendship  did  not  endure." 

"I  should  think  not,  indeed,"  interpolated  the  lutanist 
and  shook  his  fist  at  the  dancing-master,  who  answered 
him  with  a  ferocious  scowl  and  continued  his  statement. 

"Our  disunion  began  when  yonder  malignant  idiot  pre- 
sumed to  assert  that  he  suffered  more  from  the  loss  of  our 
lady's  countenance  than  I  did,  thereby  implying  that  his 
was  a  nature  more  finely  attuned  to  high  passion  and  of  a 
more  lively  susceptibility  to  the  pangs  of  love  than  mine. 
Wherefore  I  very  naturally  gave  him  the  lie." 

"And  he  gave  you  a  cuff  on  the  ear  for  your  impudence," 
asserted  the  Italian. 

"This  assassin  did  indeed  strike  at  me  when  I  was  off 
my  guard,"  the  Frenchman  admitted,  "for  we  were  sitting 
at  meat  here  upon  the  grass  when  the  quarrel  began.  But 
I  soon  showed  him  what  manner  of  man  he  had  to  reckon 
with." 

"There  was  no  need  to  show  me,"  interrupted  the  lutanist, 
"for  I  knew  already.  A  mangy  cur." 

Here  the  pair  began  bawling  such  terms  of  abuse  at  each 
other  that  Hercules  was  fairly  deafened  by  the  din.  But 
a  command  for  silence,  thundered  in  such  a  voice  as  he 
would  use  in  a  sea-storm  and  backed  by  a  round  oath  or 
two,  soon  brought  quiet  again. 

"In  my  opinion  you  are  a  brace  of  donkeys,"  said  Master 
Flood  judicially.  "In  the  first  place  because  your  imagina- 
tions distort  a  young  lady,  who  I  daresay  is  passably  well- 
favoured,  into  an  eighth  wonder  of  the  world,  a  tenth  muse 
and  a  fourth  grace.  In  the  second  place  for  being  im- 
pertinent enough,  not  indeed  to  admire  her  for  it  is  any 
man's  privilege  to  admire  a  pretty  woman,  but  to  brawl 
about  her  and  so  make  public  your  presumptions.  In  the 
third  place  for  not  making  friends  in  your  common  mis- 
fortune, but  instead  brewing  bad  blood  over  a  trifle." 

"Trifle!"  sighed  the  Frenchman. 

"Trifle!"  sneered  the  Italian. 

"Trifle,"  insisted  Hercules  stoutly.     "What  is  it  but  a 


LOVE  IN  A  WOOD  105 

trifle  between  two  beings  that  call  themselves  men,  Heaven 
forgive  them,  whether  one  of  them  is  more  liable  or  more 
prompt  to  make  an  ass  of  himself  than  the  other.  For 
let  me  tell  you,  my  friends,  and  you  will  do  well  to  husband 
my  words  in  your  memories,  that  for  a  man  to  think  over- 
much of  women  or  to  make  over-much  of  them,  is  to  prove 
himself  indeed  a  jackass.  Let  him  serve  them  always  with 
honour,  and  love  them,  when  he  must,  with  sanity  and  dis- 
cretion, but  let  him  not  deliver  his  honest  soul  into  their 
keeping  nor  make  himself  a  love-sick  zany  because  they 
are  fair  and  soft.  Be  advised,  if  you  are  wise ;  shake  hands 
and  forget  the  past,  or  if  you  cannot  be  so  magnanimous, 
part  company  and  so  avoid  the  temptation  of  pulling  one 
another  by  the  beard,  which  is  a  practice  unworthy  of 
creditable  men.  For  there  is,  to  a  sober  judgment,  no  reason 
why  because  a  man  happens  to  be  a  dancer  or  a  fiddler 
he  should  cease  to  be  a  decent  fellow." 

Hercules  delivered  this  address,  which  was  quite  a  long- 
winded  utterance  for  him,  in  a  very  loud  voice,  and  he 
looked  very  hard  at  the  men  while  he  was  saying  it. 

His  hearers  did  not  appear  to  take  his  meaning  very 
clearly.  But  they  saw  plainly  that  he  was  in  earnest  and 
that,  on  the  whole,  he  meant  them  well,  which  was  a  matter 
for  satisfaction  with  a  man  of  his  muscle.  So  the  pair 
looked  sheepishly  at  one  another,  not  unwilling  to  take 
their  new  friend's  advice,  but  neither  liking  to  make  the 
first  advance.  Hercules  saw  the  hesitation  and  divined 
the  cause. 

"Come,  come,"  he  cried,  "a  little  good-will  and  all  is 
welL  Here,  give  me  each  a  hand." 

The  three  were  on  their  feet  by  this  time  and  standing 
at  the  points  of  a  triangle.  Hercules  held  out  a  right  hand 
to  the  Italian  and  a  left  hand  to  the  Frenchman,  each  of 
whom  readily  enough  surrendered  a  right  hand  to  the  Eng- 
lishman's keeping. 

"Now,"  said  Hercules  gravely,  "you  will  be  pleased  to 
note,  sirs,  that  I  am  moving  both  my  hands  at  the  same 
rate  of  progress  to  draw  your  two  hands  duly  nearer  to 
each  other.  Thus  neither  of  you  can  accuse  himself,  or 
be  accused  by  his  fellow,  of  being  the  first  to  solicit  recon- 
ciliation. Now  I  bring  your  two  hands  together  and  lay 


106  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

them  one  upon  the  other,  and  I  trust  to  see  them  clasped  in 
sign  of  amity.  Good." 

The  last  ejaculation  was  extorted  in  approval  of  the 
obedience  of  the  foreigners,  who  did  now  exchange  a  very 
handsome  and  hearty  handshake  which  suggested  that  their 
enmity  was  buried. 

"Be  friends  and  keep  friends  if  you  can,"  said  Hercules, 
by  way  of  blessing  to  the  ceremonial;  "for  friendship  is  a 
good  thing  and  I  warrant  a  better  than  this  love-business 
you  talk  so  much  about.  And  now" — here  Hercules  slipped 
his  hand  into  his  breeches  pocket — "if  a  broad  piece  or  so 
would  serve  your  turn  for  your  journey,  say  the  word  and 
they  are  at  your  service." 

Both  the  men  protested  that  they  stood  in  no  need  of 
such  assistance,  but  they  made  it  plain  that  they  were  grate- 
ful none  the  less  for  his  kind  intent.  Then  Master  Flood 
wished  them  good-morning  and  turning  on  his  heel  joined 
Philemon,  who  had  risen,  and  the  two  friends  began  to 
climb  the  slope.  When  they  reached  the  summit,  they 
paused  and  looked  back.  The  late  adversaries  were  busily 
engaged  in  packing  their  wallets.  But  they  both  looked  up 
as  Hercules  and  Philemon  paused,  and  after  exchanging  a 
solemn  clasp  again,  waved  their  hands  to  their  peacemaker 
and  his  companion. 

"Philemon,"  said  Hercules,  as  the  two  friends  continued 
their  journey,  "did  you  get  ear  of  that  matter  between  that 
pair  of  gabies?" 

"I  heard  what  they  said,  well  enough,"  Philemon  as- 
sented with  a  faint  smile. 

"And  did  you  not  marvel  to  discover  that  two  corporate 
beings  with  souls  in  their  bodies  and  having  presumably 
sufficient  business  on  earth  to  justify  their  existence,  could 
prove  such  fools  and  noodles  because  some  lass  happens 
to  carry  a  comely  face?" 

"Why,  as  to  that,"  Philemon  replied,  while  the  smile  faded 
into  an  expression  of  apology  and  appeal,  "I  am  not  so 
sure  that  I  hold  with  you." 

"Not  so  sure,"  echoed  Hercules,  and  stared  at  his  com- 
panion. "Why,  lad,  I  know  that  you  think  highly  of  rhymes 
and  sonnets  in  honour  of  ladies,  but  I  would  not  believe 
you  of  like  mind  with  those  lunatics." 


LOVE  IN  A  WOOD  107 

"Yet  I  must  even  confess  as  much,"  said  Philemon,  "if 
I  surmise  rightly  that  the  maid  of  whom  they  spoke  was 
the  very  maid  whom  I  met  one  day  on  the  moors,  that  same 
she  of  whom  I  made  a  trifling  picture.  If  it  were  indeed 
she  they  could  not  extol  her  too  highly." 

Hercules  looked  at  his  friend  with  good-humoured  com- 
passion. 

"Here  is  a  deal  of  fuss  about  a  pretty  visnomy,"  he  said. 
"So  this  maid  can  turn  an  English  head  as  well  as  a  French 
or  an  Italian." 

"I  would  wager  that  she  has  turned  many  heads,"  said 
Philemon  with  a  half-sigh,  "and  will  turn  many  more  be- 
fore she  tires  of  the  pastime.  I  would  not  answer  for  your 
own  headpiece,  good  master  mariner,  if  you  came  within 
the  ring  of  her  witchery." 

Hercules  laughed  again,  but  also  he  shook  himself  as  if 
he  were  physically  ridding  himself  of  an  oppression. 

"Let  us  talk  of  something  more  sensible,"  he  suggested. 
"Are  we  anywhere  near  to  our  goal?" 

"In  five  minutes  more,"  Philemon  promised,  "we  shall 
be  able  to  speak  'The  Golden  Hart/" 


CHAPTER    XV 

A  GODDESS   OUT  OF  A   MACHINE 

SOME  little  time  after  Hercules  came  into  possession  of 
his  land-ship  he  was  busy  in  his  garden,  as  it  was  his 
joy  to  be.  For  he  loved  the  smell  of  the  brown  earth  no 
less  dearly  than  he  loved  the  smell  of  the  green  sea;  and 
he  loved  the  furrows  that  his  own  toil  wrought  along  his 
flower-beds  as  much  as  he  loved  the  dip  of  the  rising  and 
the  falling  wave;  and  he  loved  the  starling  as  much  as  he 
loved  the  sea-mew.  The  sturdy  muscles  that  were  used  to 
rope  and  hawser,  oar  and  tiller,  lent  themselves  with  the 
readiness  of  strength  and  skill  to  the  use  of  spade  and  rake, 
hoe  and  pitchfork.  It  was  as  good  to  dig  the  land  as  to 
plough  the  sea.  The  wind  sang  as  sweetly  over  a  Devon 
meadow  as  over  the  waste  of  waters;  a  man  was  as  good 
a  man  on  land  as  on  sea  if  he  had  but  a  sound  heart  and 
a  sound  head  and  the  fear  of  God  in  him. 

Such  was  the  simple  philosophy  under  which  Hercules 
lived  and  whistled  and  was  content.  He  had  grown  so 
used  to  beating  about  the  world  here  and  there  and  every- 
where, that  the  novelty  of  keeping  in  one  place  for  days 
and  weeks  and  maybe  years  tickled  him  vastly,  and  he  had 
never  space  for  an  inch  of  regret  in  his  mind  for  the 
Tortugas  or  the  Indies  while  he  surveyed  the  amazing  land- 
ship  in  its  little  kingdom  of  Devonshire  garden  and  orchard. 

He  was  working  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  manuring  a  bed  of 
roses,  when  his  ear  was  taken  by  a  nearing  noise  that 
sounded  to  his  fancy  like  the  grunting  of  a  thousand  pigs, 
or  the  chuckling  of  a  thousand  chanticleers.  Being  too  busy 
to  trouble  his  mind  with  trifles  he  went  on  with  his  work 
while  the  noise  grew  louder  and  louder  till  it  resolved  it- 
self— though  not  as  yet  to  him  who  heeded  it  not — into 
the  creaking  of  two  pair  of  wheels  which  conveyed  a  coach 
of  cumbrous  mould  that  was  with  difficulty  tugged  along 
108 


A  GODDESS  OUT  OF  A  MACHINE         109 

the  rugged  road  by  four  stout  dapples.  As  the  ungainly 
vehicle  wheezed  and  squeaked  its  way  along  the  high  road 
Hercules  lifted  his  head  for  a  moment,  gave  it  a  glance  over 
his  shoulder,  and  a  smile — he  had  seen  such  coaches  in  the 
Spanish  Americas — and  then  returned  with  a  fresh  zest  to 
his  pitchfork. 

He  had  been  busy  for  quite  a  time,  as  it  seemed  to  him, 
before  he  became  aware  of  two  circumstances.  The  first 
was  that  the  creaking  and  grumbling  of  the  coach,  instead 
of  waxing  as  it  passed  his  gate  and  then  waning  as  it 
drifted  slowly  out  of  earshot,  had  ceased  altogether.  The 
second  was  that  the  voice  of  a  woman — and  a  fresh  young 
voice  it  sounded — was  hailing  him. 

Hercules  looked  up  and  saw  that  the  gaudy  ark  of  a 
coach  had  come  to  a  halt  at  his  garden  gate  and  that  the 
aperture  of  its  near  window  framed  a  woman's  face.  To 
eyes  that  were  trained  in  the  scanning  of  great  sea  spaces 
it  was  easy  to  be  sure,  across  the  tumbled  earth  and  the 
grass  plot  and  the  gateway  in  the  privet  hedge,  to  see  that 
the  face  so  framed  was  a  pretty  face,  imperious  in  its  pretti- 
ness  and  insolent  in  its  empire.  He  stayed  for  a  moment 
from  his  task,  leaning  on  the  staff  of  his  fork  with  the 
prongs  buried  in  the  earth  while  he  surveyed  the  lady.  He 
had  seen  a  world  of  beauties  in  his  days,  but  this  unknown 
took  his  taste  amazingly.  And  yet  not  unknown  neither. 
He  was  conscious  that  the  face  seemed  familiar  to  him,  and 
yet  he  was  very  certain  that  he  had  never  seen  it  before 
in  the  flesh.  That  thought  set  him  right,  recalling  Phile- 
mon's picture.  This,  then,  was  the  loveliness  that  Phile- 
mon had  praised  so  highly  and  on  account  of  whom  the 
Frenchman  and  Italian  had  brawled  in  the  woods.  He 
eyed  her  with  a  livelier  curiosity,  studying  her  with  a  steady 
stare  that  found  its  justification  in  the  fact  of  her  summons. 
He  did  not  trouble  himself  to  find  similes  for  her  eyes, 
for  her  hair  or  for  her  lips.  He  took  her  face  just  as  it 
was  framed  in  the  window  of  the  coach,  as  he  would  have 
taken  a  portrait  in  some  gallery,  and  so  taking  it  he  found 
it  greatly  to  his  liking,  and  was  far  from  unwilling  to  think 
that  she  desired  speech  with  him,  even  though  it  inter- 
rupted his  immediate  business  with  the  roses. 

He  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  conceive  what  the  pretty 


no  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

lady  had  to  say  to  him,  unless,  indeed,  she  and  the  gaudy 
wain  she  travelled  in  had  lost  their  way.  But  it  was  not  to 
be  doubted  that  the  pretty  lady  desired  speech  with  him, 
for  she  was  calling  again  as  imperiously  as  before  and  a 
trifle  louder. 

"Come  hither,  clown,"  she  commanded,  in  a  voice  that 
rang  on  the  man's  ear  with  a  curious  blend  of  sweetness 
and  shrillness  at  once  teasing  and  taking. 

Hercules  let  his  fork  fall  to  the  ground  and  swung  with 
the  great  strides  of  a  deck-dancing  mariner  till  he  came 
to  the  garden-gate,  and,  pulling  it  back,  stood  in  the  opening 
squarely  regarding  the  lady.  The  nearer  he  came  to  her 
the  more  he  liked  her,  appraising  as  was  his  wont,  not  by 
appearances  only,  but  by  hints  and  inferences.  He  liked 
the  way  of  her  hair  and  the  hue  of  her  eyes,  and  the  carna- 
tion of  her  cheeks  and  the  impudence  of  her  lips,  and  he 
liked,  when  he  heard  it  again  as  he  did  very  speedily,  that 
before-noted  mingled  sweetness  and  shrillness  of  her  voice. 
If  he  still  disdained  the  brawling  aliens  he  began  to  under- 
stand Philemon's  raptures. 

He  would  have  been  very  content  to  stand  for  a  long 
time  in  his  gateway  and  contemplate  a  countenance  so  fair 
and  gay  and  alluring.  But  the  owner  of  the  countenance 
did  not  admit  or  think  that  she  was  there  to  be  stared  at 
and  in  consequence  she  left  the  man  little  leisure  for  his 
contemplation. 

"Tell  me,  fellow,"  the  lady  said,  "who  is  the  owner  of 
this  house." 

Hercules  realised  that  the  pretty  lady  took  him  for  a 
labourer  on  the  place,  and  did  not  in  the  least  resent  the 
inference.  He  had  served  before  the  mast  in  his  time  and 
was  willing  to  pass  now  for  one  that  served  behind  the 
spade.  He  answered  her  with  composure. 

"That  house,"  he  said,  "belongs  to  a  master  mariner  that 
is  newly  returned  to  England  from  the  foreign  seas." 

The  pretty  lady  was  not  at  the  pains  to  discern  the  differ- 
ence between  the  man's  address  and  his  habit. 

"Is  your  master  within?"  she  asked ;  "for  if  he  is  I  would 
fain  speak  with  him." 

Hercules  shook  his  head  and  smiled  so  small  a  smile  at 
the  lady's  impatience  that  it  was  lost  upon  the  lady. 


A  GODDESS  OUT  OF  A  MACHINE    in 

"The  master  of  the  house  is  not  within,"  he  averred. 
The  lady  frowned  and  looked  disappointed. 

"That  is  a  pity,"  she  protested  pettishly.  "Will  you  tell 
him  when  he  returns  that  I  heard  of  this  strange  house  of 
his  and  that  I  have  a  fancy  for  it,  and  a  mind  to  take  it 
off  his  hands?" 

The  man  smiled  a  wide  smile  and  his  eyes  danced,  but 
his  voice  was  steady  as  he  answered  gravely: 

"That  is  a  kind  message  to  send  and  the  house  is  hon- 
oured by  your  approval.  Would  it  please  you,  since  you 
favour  it  on  hearsay,  to  quit  your  coach  for  a  season  and 
survey  it  from  the  gardens?" 

Clarenda's  eyes  brightened. 

"Have  you  the  right,"  she  questioned,  "to  show  the  gar- 
den in  its  master's  absence?" 

"I  have  the  right  to  show  the  garden,"  the  man  answered 
quietly,  and  in  a  moment,  without  further  parley,  the  fin- 
gers of  Mistress  Clarenda  were  fumbling  at  the  coach 
door. 

The  man  found  a  great  if  silent  entertainment  in  playing 
the  guide  to  the  pretty  lady  through  the  flower  gardens 
and  vegetable  gardens  of  his  abode.  She  talked  so  cheer- 
fully as  she  went,  liking  this  thing  and  liking  that,  and 
taking  no  more  notice  of  him  than  she  would  have  taken 
of  any  respectable  serving-man  who  played  the  guide  in 
his  master's  absence,  that  Hercules  was  vastly  diverted  and 
kept  a  straight  face  with  difficulty. 

But  it  was  the  house  itself,  when  she  gained  a  full  view 
of  it,  that  commanded  her  highest  raptures.  There  it  stood 
for  all  the  world  like  a  great  sea-going  ship,  with  its  port- 
holes and  its  poop  and  its  figure-head  and  all,  sailing  its 
way,  as  it  seemed,  on  a  sea  of  smooth  green  turf,  and  about 
its  bows  in  great  gold  letters  the  legend  "The  Golden  Hart." 
She  clapped  her  hands  for  joy  as  she  beheld  it  in  all  its 
audacious  oddity,  and  ran  nimbly  this  way  and  that  on  the 
grass  to  admire  it  from  various  points  of  view.  Hercules 
guessed  very  readily  that  she  was  longing  to  study  the  in- 
terior as  well  as  the  exterior,  but  he  said  nothing  to  gratify 
that  purpose,  having  formed  in  his  mind  some  vague  plans 
of  his  own,  and  even  Clarenda's  boldness  was  not  game  for 
so  impudent  a  proposal. 


H2  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

When  the  inspection  was  made  and  the  pretty  lady  stood 
by  the  steps  of  her  coach  again  Hercules  saw,  with  increased 
amusement,  that  she  had  her  purse  in  her  hand  and  that 
her  fingers  had  fished  out  a  silver  crown  which  she  was 
plainly  on  the  point  of  tendering  to  him. 

"Will  you  tell  your  master,"  she  said — and  as  she  spoke 
she  offered  him  the  silver  crown  which  he  took  from  her 
fingers  without  the  slightest  hesitation — "that  I  like  the 
looks  of  this  house  exceedingly,  that  in  a  word  I  have  lost 
my  heart  to  it,  and  that  he  has  but  to  name  his  price  ?" 

"Even  if  he  does  not  wish  to  sell?"  the  man  questioned, 
with  a  smileless  face. 

"Of  course  he  will  wish  to  sell,"  the  girl  replied  with  a 
slight  frown,  "if  I  am  willing  to  pay  the  price." 

"You  speak  very  confidently,"  the  man  replied  gravely, 
"and  yet  I  have  a  notion  that  the  place  is  not  to  be  sold." 

Clarenda  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"What  do  you  know  about  it?"  she  protested.  Her 
foot  was  on  the  coach  step  when  she  turned  again  to  ad- 
dress him. 

"You  will  deliver  my  message  to  your  master,"  the  girl 
said,  "for  I  desire  a  speedy  reply." 

"The  message  is  already  delivered,"  the  man  said  as 
quietly  as  before.  "I  am — the  master  of  this  house." 

A  flood  of  colour  flushed  the  girl's  cheeks.  She  was 
vexed,  penitent,  humiliated  and  insolent,  all  in  a  jiffy. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  before?"  she  asked 
angrily.  "Why  have  you  dared  to  make  a  fool  of  me?" 

Hercules  shrugged  his  shoulders  ever  so  slightly.  He 
was  much  pleased  with  the  girl's  face,  animated  by  its 
touch  of  anger. 

"You  did  not  ask  the  question/'  he  said  calmly.  "Is 
your  servant  a  dog  that  he  should  bark  at  a  visitor  ?" 

He  was  so  good-humoured  and  so  entirely  free  from 
any  trace  of  annoyance  that  Clarenda  was  compelled,  in 
spite  of  her  irritation,  to  suit  her  temper  to  his. 

"I  am  truly  sorry,"  she  protested,  "that  I  should  have 
made  so  vile  a  mistake,  and  I  can  do  no  more  and  no  better 
than  to  crave  your  forgiveness." 

The  man  laughed  now,  freely  and  merrily. 

"It  is  to  ask  and  have,"  he  declared,  "if  there  be  any- 


A  GODDESS  OUT  OF  A  MACHINE         113 

thing  to  forgive,  which  I  do  not  admit,  for  I  cannot  see 
that  you  could  guess  my  identity  unless  I  carried  my  name 
writ  large  across  my  breast,  like  the  poor  rogues  in  the 
pillory.  But  my  name,  at  your  service,  is  Hercules  Flood." 

The  girl  was  not  too  perturbed  by  her  blunder  not  to 
seek  to  press  her  case  now  she  knew  that  she  was  face 
to  face  with  the  master  of  the  coveted  dwelling-place. 

"My  name,"  she  said,  "is  Clarenda  Constant,  and  I  dwell, 
for  the  time,  with  my  lady  Gylford  at  King's  Welcome 
yonder.  And  since  you  have  forgiven  my  mistake,  per- 
haps you  will  give  me  an  answer  yourself  to  my  ques- 
tion?" 

The  information  that  the  young  lady  vouchsafed  con- 
veyed nothing  more  to  its  hearer  than  its  exact  purport. 
Hercules  Flood  had  been  too  long  abroad  and  was  too 
newly  home  to  know  anything,  as  he  would  never  have 
cared  anything,  about  the  rumours  of  London  or  the  gossip 
of  the  Court.  He  might,  had  he  been  put  to  it,  have  re- 
called after  much  cudgelling  of  memory  that  King's  Wel- 
come was  the  property  of  my  lord  of  Godalming,  but  the 
fact  would  have  seemed  to  him  of  very  little  importance. 

"I  must  hear  your  question  anew,  now  that  I  am  no 
longer  man  but  master/'  he  said  slowly,  for  he  found 
himself  oddly  unwilling  to  part  with  his  impudent  visitor. 
"What  you  have  said  to  the  fellow  with  the  pitchfork  has 
gone  in  at  one  ear  and  out  at  the  other."  As  he  spoke  he 
stooped  down,  and  picking  up  his  jerkin  where  he  had 
laid  it  down  he  drew  it  leisurely  upon  his  body.  "Now  that 
I  have  a  coat  about  me,"  he  continued,  "I  may  parley  at 
ease  with  a  lady  by  my  gate.  What  is  your  question?" 

"I  have  taken  a  fancy  to  your  house,"  Clarenda  asserted, 
something  less  confidently  than  before.  "I  should  be  glad 
to  buy  it  if  you  are  willing  to  sell.  You  need  not  fear  that 
the  question  of  price  will  vex  me." 

"This  is  something  sudden,"  the  man  replied,  "and  I 
cannot  answer  it  all  at  once  through  the  rail  of  a  gate. 
Nor  can  you  judge  fairly  of  a  house  of  which  you  have 
seen  no  more  than  the  skin.  If  you  will  be  at  the  pains 
to  come  again  to-morrow  at  about  this  time  of  the  day, 
you  shall  see  inside  as  well  as  outside,  and  I  will  promise 
to  give  you  a  plain  answer  to  a  plain  question." 


ii4  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Clarenda  frowned  a  little  for  she  found  the  man's  bearing 
something  off-hand  and  disdainful  to  one  that  was  used  of 
late  to  an  excess  of  deference. 

"How  if  I  do  not  choose  to  come?"  she  questioned 
sharply. 

Hercules  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"That  is  for  you  to  decide,"  he  said  quietly.  "But  there 
is  my  answer,  and  beyond  it  I  will  not  budge." 

"Well,"  said  Clarenda  slowly,  after  a  moment  of  reflec- 
tion. "If  you  cannot  make  up  your  mind  to  a  straight 
answer,  neither  can  I.  But  this  much  I  may  assure  you. 
I  will  come  to-morrow  or  I  will  not  come  to-morrow." 

Hercules  laughed  heartily  and  Clarenda,  for  all  that  she 
was  vexed  with  him,  saw  that  laughter  sat  wholesomely 
upon  his  sunburnt  face. 

"You  have  made  a  safe  promise,"  he  said,  "and  one 
that  you  are  bound  to  keep,  which  is  more  than  can  be 
said  of  most  of  the  promises  that  are  made  in  this  world. 
And  it  is  wise  to  remember  that,  whichever  way  you  keep 
it,  the  sun  will  set." 

Clarenda  gave  no  other  answer  to  this  piece  of  philosophy 
than  to  lean  a  little  out  of  the  coach  window  and  bid  the 
driver  go  home.  Then  she  dropped  back  among  her 
cushions  and  sat  so,  looking  steadily  before  her,  that  Her- 
cules could  see  little  more  of  her  than  the  tip  of  her  nose, 
before  the  four  dapples  strained  at  their  traces  and  the 
great  gold  coach  rocked  itself  into  motion  and  lurched 
forward  again  upon  its  way.  Hercules  still  leaning  by 
his  garden  gate  watched  it  making  its  cumbrous  way 
along  the  high  road  until  it  was  out  of  sight.  He  was 
thinking  hard  and  the  gist  of  his  reflections  was  that  he 
was  mightily  taken  with  the  young  woman.  She  was  cer- 
tainly impudent;  she  was  certainly  a  minx,  but  she  was, 
no  less  certainly,  very  delectable  to  regard. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

WILL  SHE  NOT  COME  AGAIN 

HERCULES  found  himself  wondering,  more  than  he 
thought  either  prudent  or  judicious,  if  the  young  lady 
would  indeed  pay  him  another  visit.  He  assured  himself, 
with  great  lustiness,  that  he  did  not  care  a  snap  of  the 
fingers  what  she  did,  and  then  laughed  heartily  at  himself 
for  wasting  time  in  telling  himself  lies.  For  indeed  he 
found  that  he  was  very  much  taken  with  the  girl.  Her 
beauty  stirred  him  profoundly;  he  had  see  many  beautiful 
women,  but  this  maid  seemed  in  her  way  to  sum  all  the 
wonder  of  English  loveliness  into  one  perfection.  Then 
her  capriciousness  amused  him;  her  imperiousness,  which 
might  have  irritated  another,  only  served  to  tickle  him. 
He  saw  plainly  enough  that  she  considered  him  nothing 
better  than  a  bumpkin  and  little  better  than  a  boor,  and 
he  was  content,  for  the  present,  not  to  gainsay  her  humour, 
which  seemed  to  promise  him  diversion.  In  short,  he  was 
so  sharp  set  to  see  her  again  that  he  was  ready  to  submit, 
with  a  smile,  to  her  pretty  impertinences  so  long  as  he 
might  see  her,  much  as  a  big  dog  will  submit  to  rough  and 
naughty  treatment  at  the  hands  of  a  spoiled  child. 

He  found  the  evening  too  long  for  his  taste,  though  he 
passed  it  at  the  "Dolphin,"  where  for  once  the  wine  seemed 
to  run  thin  and  the  talk  to  lack  sap.  The  morning  found  him 
abroad  betimes  and  very  busy  in  the  furbishing  of  his  ship- 
house  that  it  should  show  to  the  best  advantage  if  the  lady 
came.  He  gave  his  people  neither  peace  nor  rest  till  all 
was  in  apple-pie  order  from  galley  to  poop;  and  as  for 
the  gardener,  if  he  had  been  grandfather  Adam  himself, 
he  could  not  have  realised  the  floral  miracles  which  the  im- 
patience of  his  master  wished  him  to  accomplish.  Though 
his  will  and  his  fellows'  zeal  worked  wonders  he  was  at  the 
end  more  dissatisfied  with  the  result  than  he  would  have 
been  if  he  were  told  to  expect  the  honour  of  a  visit  from 
115 


ii6  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

the  Queen.  When,  however,  he  was  satisfied  that  there 
was  really  nothing  more  to  be  done,  he  ceased  to  drive 
and  direct  his  folk  and  went  out  into  the  garden  to  walk 
there  and  wrestle  with  impatience. 

Would  she  come  or  would  she  not  come?  While  he  was 
trying  to  tell  himself  that  it  was  all  one  to  him  either  way, 
he  found  himself  hoping  that  she  might  come  in  the  fore- 
noon and  that  he  might,  who  knows,  be  able  to  persuade 
her  to  stay  to  dinner.  But  the  forenoon  flamed  and  waned 
without  sign  of  the  lady  and  at  length,  having  no  excuse  to 
delay  further,  he  sat  down  to  a  retarded  banquet,  at  which, 
in  spite  of  his  agitation,  he  distinguished  himself,  according 
to  his  custom,  very  creditably. 

He  had  come  to  an  end  of  his  meal  and  was  degusting, 
with  leisure  and  appreciation,  a  goblet  of  Burgundy — for 
he  loved  the  wines  of  France  better  than  those  of  Almain 
or  Spain — when  he  heard  a  sound  that  made  him  drain 
his  glass,  wipe  his  lips,  and  rise  to  his  feet  with  alacrity. 
The  sound  which  he  heard  was  in  itself  of  most  undelectable 
composition,  being  no  other  than  the  squeaking  and  creaking 
of  a  set  of  carriage  wheels,  but  he  had  never  heard  a 
trumpet  call  to  clear  for  action  that  sounded  brisker,  or  a 
church  bell  that  sounded  sweeter.  He  was  overboard  and 
through  his  floriferous  garden  and  at  his  garden  gate  in  a 
twinkling  and  there,  sure  enough,  on  the  highway,  having 
just  made  the  turn  of  the  road  by  the  finger-post,  was  the 
great  gold-coloured  coach  wheezing  and  grunting  its  way 
between  the  hedgerows. 

His  heart  sang  within  him,  but  he  kept  a  smooth  face 
and  even  a  stolid  one  as  the  lumbering  vehicle  came  to  a 
halt  and  the  prettiest  face  in  the  world — as  he  was  now 
ready  to  assert  and  maintain — appeared  at  the  window  and 
smiled  at  him  in  a  lively  audacity.  It  did  Hercules  good 
to  see  the  damsel,  but  he  controlled  any  show  of  satisfaction 
as  he  opened  his  garden  gate  and,  stepping  into  the  road, 
saluted  the  girl  with  as  formal  a  gravity  as  if  he  had  been 
a  Spanish  hidalgo  instead  of  an  English  seafarer. 

"Well,  savage,"  said  Clarenda,  smiling,  "am  I  not  a 
gracious  lady  to  visit  you  again?"  Hercules  surveyed  her 
with  a  placid  face.  He  was  not  going  to  let  this  adorable 
baggage  know  how  attractive  she  was. 


WILL  SHE  NOT  COME  AGAIN  117 

"You  come,"  he  said  slowly,  "because  you  want  to  get 
something;  not  because  you  want  to  come.  If  you  wanted 
to  come  less  than  you  wanted  what  you  come  to  get,  I 
take  it,  in  all  straightforwardness,  that  you  would  not  have 
come." 

He  said  this  with  a  quiet  stubbornness  that  made 
Clarenda  decide  that  he  was  a  bumpkin  and  an  oaf.  But 
it  amused  her  to  dazzle  any  man,  and  there  was  no  reason 
in  the  world  why  a  bumpkin  and  an  oaf  should  not  be 
dazzled  like  his  betters. 

"You  speak  very  sagely,"  she  agreed;  "and  show  a  vast 
comprehension  of  the  working  of  a  woman's  mind.  I  am 
still  in  the  same  humour  that  I  dwelt  in  yesterday.  I  would 
like  to  take  this  oddfish  of  a  house  off  your  hands.  Will 
you  sell,  good  sir?  Will  you  sell?" 

Hercules  looked  the  girl  up  and  down,  with  a  stare  as 
vacant  as  he  could  command. 

"Why,  you  see,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  have  no  mind  to 
sell  in  a  hurry  what  I  built  at  my  ease." 

A  frown  wrinkled  the  alabaster  forehead — so  styled  to 
weariness  by  the  courtly  poets — of  Mistress  Clarenda  and 
straightened  sourly  the  crimson  bow  of  her  mouth. 

"You  are  a  savage,"  she  protested,  "and  nothing  but  a 
savage.  Why,  there  are  gallants  in  London  who  would 
lose  the  world  lightly  to  please  me,  and  here  are  you  making 
a  pother  about  a  silly  old  ship-shaped  barn." 

"The  silliness  of  my  house,  or  the  wisdom  of  my  house," 
said  Hercules  gravely,  "is  nothing  to  the  purpose.  Silly 
be  it  or  wise  we  both  have  a  liking  for  it.  But  also  I 
have  a  liking  for  you." 

He  looked  so  solemnly  at  the  girl  as  he  spoke  that  she 
was  hard  put  to  it  to  restrain  from  laughter,  although  she 
was  tempted  to  admit  that  she  was  vexed  by  the  bluntness 
of  his  praises.  She  was  accustomed  to  a  very  different 
method  of  commendation. 

"I  am 'mightily  obliged  to  you,"  she  protested,  and  felt 
as  she  spoke  that  she  flamed  against  her  will  under  the 
scrutiny  of  that  unexpressive  face. 

"There  is  no  occasion  to  thank  me,"  he  said  tranquilly. 
"God  that  made  you  fair  gave  me  the  wit  to  understand 
his  handiwork.  I  have  been  here  and  been  there,  but  I 


iiS  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

swear  that  I  have  never  seen  a  fairer  maid  than  you.  If 
you  are  as  good  as  you  are  fair,  you  are  a  wonderful 
woman." 

"I  am  what  I  am,"  Clarenda  said,  somewhat  sharply, 
for  this  man  had  a  manner  of  stating  his  mind  which  was 
very  different  from  the  court  fashion,  and  it  galled  her 
sensitiveness.  "I  have  come  to  talk  of  your  house,  not 
of  myself." 

Master  Flood  smiled  affably. 

"Before  we  talk  further  on  this  matter,"  he  suggested, 
"shall  we  change  from  the  open  road  to  the  garden  or 
the  hall?  You  have  seen  no  more  than  the  outside  of 
my  poor  dwelling  thus  far.  Will  you  not  honour  me  by 
coming  within  and  gaining  a  knowledge  of  interior  as  well 
as  exterior?  Perhaps  you  may  find  that  the  place  does 
not  improve  upon  acquaintance." 

He  opened  the  carriage  door  as  he  spoke  and  extending 
his  hand  assisted  Clarenda  to  alight. 

It  gave  Hercules  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  to  shepherd 
the  young  lady  over  "The  Golden  Hart,"  and  it  seemed  to 
give  the  young  lady  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  to  see  what 
she  saw.  She  professed  to  be  in  ecstasies  over  the  strange- 
ness of  the  device  and  to  long  more  than  ever  to  lodge  in 
such  an  enchanted  ship. 

"Truly,"  she  protested,  "I  like  your  house." 

"And  truly,"  he  parodied,  "I  like  your  countenance." 

She  laughed  at  him,  half  amused,  half  annoyed. 

"Truly,"  she  said  again,  "I  am  much  obliged  to 
you." 

"There  is  nothing  to  be  obliged  at,"  he  said  quietly. 
"If  you  carry  a  comely  face  and  I  get  the  chance  of  a  good 
look  at  it,  I  have  the  right  to  admire  it,  I  suppose  ?" 

"But  not  necessarily  the  right  to  tell  me  as  much,"  the 
girl  commented  maliciously. 

Hercules  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"If  you  know  me  well  enough,"  he  replied,  "to  seek  on 
our  first  meeting  to  buy  my  house  over  my  head,  surely  I 
know  you  well  enough  on  our  second  meeting  to  tell  you 
that  I  find  you  fair-looking.  But,  however  that  may  be,  I 
am  a  plain  fellow  and  I  say  my  say.  Because  I  have  a 
liking  for  this  house  of  mine  I  have  no  mind  to  sell  it.  But 


WILL  SHE  NOT  COME  AGAIN  119 

because  I  have  a  liking  for  you  I  have  a  month's  mind  to 
lend  it." 

"Lend  it?"  Clarenda  echoed  in  some  surprise,  as  if  she 
did  not,  and  indeed  she  could  not,  understand  his  drift. 

"I  reckon  you  to  be  a  maid  that  takes  sudden  fancies," 
he  said  slowly,  as  one  that  enunciates  a  theory  arrived  at 
after  due  and  becoming  deliberation;  "and  you  might  tire 
of  a  fancy  as  quickly  as  you  were  fired  by  it.  Am  I  not 
right  in  this  thought  of  mine?" 

Clarenda  knew  very  well  that  he  was  right,  but  it  annoyed 
her  that  he  should  have  stated  the  case  so  clearly  and  that 
she  should,  if  she  spoke  the  truth,  be  compelled  to  admit  it. 

"Most  people,"  she  said  a  little  sharply,  "take  fancies  that 
they  do  not  always  wish  to  endure  for  ever." 

Master  Flood  nodded  his  head  with  a  great  air  of  agree- 
ment. 

"Exactly  so,"  he  approved;  "exactly  so.  And  so  on  the 
top  of  that  admission  I  have  a  proposition  to  make." 

Clarenda  regarded  him  steadfastly. 

"What  is  your  proposition?"  she  asked,  and  there  was  a 
note  of  challenge  in  her  voice.  She  was  a  little  puzzled  by 
this  strange  person  and  also  a  little  interested. 

"Why,"  responded  Hercules,  "my  proposition  comes  to 
this,  in  as  few  words  as  I  can  find.  I  will  not  sell  my  house 
and  I  will  not  lease  my  house,  but  I  will  lend  my  house  for 
as  long  as  you  stay  in  the  West  Country,  to  do  as  you  please 
with — on  one  condition." 

Clarenda  looked  keenly  at  him. 

"And  what  may  that  condition  be  ?"  she  asked. 

Master  Flood  replied  slowly  as  before. 

"That  you  permit  me  to  pay  you  a  visit  of  an  hour's  dura- 
tion each  morning  or  afternoon  as  best  may  please  your  con- 
venience, and  talk  to  me  of  all  the  things  that  have  happened 
here  at  home  in  England  in  the  years  that  I  have  been  at 
sea." 

"That  is  a  curious  condition,  Master  Flood,"  said 
Clarenda. 

Hercules  shook  his  head. 

"Not  so,"  he  argued  gravely;  "surely  not  so.  Here  am  I 
a  seafaring  man  that  am  newly  come  ashore  after  some  years 
of  absence  from  my  native  land.  Here  and  there  in  this 


120  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

port  and  in  that  port  I  have  heard  such  news  as  were  big 
enough  to  travel  so  far.  I  have  learned  if  we  were  at  war, 
I  have  learned  if  we  were  at  peace.  Since  I  came  home 
and  have  lived  yonder" — he  indicated  Plymouth  with  a  slight 
jerk  of  the  head — "I  have  been  told  many  things  that  piece 
together  my  knowledge  of  the  past.  But  news  travels  slowly 
to  the  West  Country,  and  indeed  we  West  Country  folk  are 
a  little  indifferent  to  the  affairs  of  other  places.  I  am  of  a 
more  curious  humour,  and  you  that  come  from  the  east  and 
from  London  can,  if  you  do  but  choose,  instruct  me  much." 

Mistress  Clarenda  was  somewhat  taken  aback  by  the  drift 
of  her  companion's  discourse.  It  was  not  a  little  staggering 
to  find  that  the  society  of  a  beautiful  young  woman  was 
sought  after  because  of  the  amount  of  information  she 
might  be  able  to  impart  to  a  newly  returned  mariner.  If  it 
confirmed  confidence  in  the  speaker  it  was  scarcely  compli- 
mentary to  herself.  • 

"I  must  commend  your  desire  for  knowledge,  Master 
Flood,"  she  said  somewhat  shortly,  "but  I  think  there  must 
needs  be  many  a  man  in  the  neighbourhood  that  could  serve 
your  turn  better  than  I." 

He  shook  his  head  slowly,  as  a  man  that  had  made  up  his 
mind  and  stuck  to  his  point. 

"You  hail  from  London,"  he  answered,  "and  come  thence 
later  than  any  I  know.  And  besides,  being  a  woman  you 
will  have  things  to  tell  that  a  man  might  forget  or  hold  of 
little  account.  Further,  to  put  an  end  to  the  argument,  if 
you  have  taken  a  fancy  to  my  house,  I  have  taken  a  fancy 
to  your  society,  so  there  is  the  bargain  laid  on  the  table  for 
plain  yea  or  nay." 

He  was  very  pertinacious,  Clarenda  thought ;  in  fact,  the 
term  "pig-headed"  would  aptly  have  expressed  her 
mental  opinion  of  him.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  refuse  him 
hotly,  because  she  was  annoyed  with  him  for  being  so  fa- 
miliar in  his  manner,  and  with  herself  for  having  been  in 
some  degree  the  cause  and  the  justification  of  the  familiarity. 
But  her  second  thought  prompted  her  to  accept.  After  all, 
if  he  were  in  a  measure  familiar  or  at  least,  to  put  it  more 
gently,  a  trifle  too  much  at  his  ease,  he  was  sufficiently 
courteous  and  wholly  decorous. 

She  lingered  and  dallied,  tossed  between  two  minds,  either 


WILL  SHE  NOT  COME  AGAIN  121 

to  make  a  great  show  of  anger  at  his  impudence  and  go  off 
in  a  tantrum,  or  to  take  him  on  his  terms  with  a  covert  pur- 
pose of  punishing  him  hereafter  for  that  same  impudence. 
As  she  was  really  desirous — and  now  more  desirous  than 
ever — of  enjoying  the  fantastic  attractions  of  "The  Golden 
Hart,"  she  decided  on  the  latter  course.  With  the  airiest 
grace  she  accepted  the  terms  of  Master  Hercules  and  trun- 
dled back  to  King's  Welcome  in  all  the  gravity  of  her 
decision. 

The  execution  of  the  compact,  signed,  sealed  and  deliv- 
ered, as  it  were,  between  Clarenda  and  Hercules,  would 
have  seemed  to  many  a  gentleman  author  of  the  age  to  con- 
tain the  material  for  a  very  pretty  pastoral,  masque,  or  com- 
edy. There  was,  to  begin  with,  a  tearing  scene  between 
Mistress  Clarenda  and  my  lady  Gylford.  That  relic  of  the 
age  of  the  eighth  Harry  began  by  an  attempt  sternly  to  for- 
bid the  young  woman  from  carrying  out  her  proposed  plan. 
When  Clarenda  triumphantly  appealed  to  the  charter  of  my 
lord  Godalming's  letter,  the  old  lady  asserted  roundly  that 
she  would  have  no  share  in  the  disgraceful  business,  and  to 
justify  her  determination  promptly  took  to  her  bed  and  an- 
nounced her  resolution  to  remain  there  until  further  notice. 
From  that  haven  she  penned  an  indignant  letter  to  Lord 
Godalming,  telling  him  what  had  occurred  and  formally 
washing  her  hands  of  her  wardship.  Clarenda,  mulishly 
obstinate  to  opposition,  would  not  yield  an  inch  of  her  whim, 
but  as  she  had  the  wit  to  perceive  that  she  could  not  set  up 
her  staff  at  "The  Golden  Hart"  wholly  unguardianed  she 
promptly  busied  herself  to  seek,  and  seeking  no  less  promptly 
found  a  wholly  decorous,  well-bred,  elderly  gentlewoman  of 
the  neighbourhood,  relict  of  a  former  Mayor  of  Plymouth, 
who  was  quite  willing  for  a  fitting  remuneration  to  take 
charge  of  the  land-ship  and  keep  house,  if  the  term  could  be 
used  with  fitness,  for  its  madcap  new  master. 

All  this  was  by  the  way  to  Clarenda,  whose  one  idea  was 
to  lodge  herself  at  "The  Golden  Hart,"  and  who  cared  not 
whom  she  vexed  or  upset  so  long  as  she  did  so.  Had  not 
her  antiquated  betrothed  promised  her  the  very  perfection 
of  liberty  and  should  she  not  make  full  use  of  her  privilege  ? 
By  the  way,  too,  seemed  at  first  the  inevitable  daily  visit  of 
her  landlord,  Master  Hercules  Flood,  whom  she  had  assured 


122  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

herself  she  would  have  little  difficulty  in  choking  off  and 
dismissing. 

But  here  Clarenda  reckoned  without  her  host,  in  the 
fullest  sense  of  the  phrase.  At  the  first  visit  which  Master 
Flood  paid  her  she  found  herself,  in  spite  of  her  resentment 
against  him  because  of  his  coolly  enforced  condition,  very 
unquestionably  taken  by  his  frank  and  engaging  manner,  by 
his  easy  if  quite  unostentatious  carriage  of  equality,  by  his 
large  familiarity  with  men  and  cities — like  a  certain  famous 
Greek  sailor  of  whom  the  Queen  had  told  her  tales — by  the 
simplicity  and  directness  of  his  speech,  and,  best  of  all,  by 
his  lively  interest  in  and  lively  admiration  of  herself.  After 
his  second  visit  she  allowed  the  fact  that  she  bore  him  a 
grudge  to  sink  for  the  time  being  into  a  half  oblivion.  The 
grudge  was  not  forgotten,  the  offence  was  not  forgiven,  but 
both,  for  the  moment,  were  suffered  to  lie  upon  the  shelf. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A  VISITOR  TO  KING'S  WELCOME 

SIR  BATTY  and  his  companions,  Mr.  Winwood  and  Mr. 
Willoughby,  journeyed  at  leisure  and  in  comfort  from 
London  to  the  West  Country.  They  broke  their  course  at 
such  points  as  pleased  them  most,  which  meant  where  the 
inns  were  best.  The  Master  of  the  Lesser  Revels  and  Mr. 
Winwood  were  both  lovers  of  good  cheer  and  epicures  in 
their  judgment  of  it.  Mr.  Willoughby,  who  had  come  from 
the  West  Country  with  simple  tastes  for  your  honest  roast 
and  your  honest  boiled  and  plenty  of  both,  had  striven  with 
no  very  great  success  to  accommodate  his  appetite  to  the 
more  delicate  feeding  of  the  courtiers,  but  he  found  some 
consolation  for  an  abstinence  that  was  after  all  only  rela- 
tive in  the  knowledge  that  he  was  free  to  drink  as  he  pleased. 
Wherever  they  halted — and  they  halted  at  some  ancient  and 
famous  towns — the  trio  showed  no  manner  of  interest  in 
what  the  place  might  have  of  noteworthy  to  show,  but  when 
they  had  stretched  their  legs  for  a  few  moments  after  quit- 
ting the  saddle,  they  settled  themselves  to  supper  and  there- 
after devoted  the  leave  of  the  evening  to  play,  to  which 
form  of  entertainment  all  the  three  seemed  equally  devoted, 
though  with  far  from  equal  fortunes. 

Mr.  Willoughby  could  not  consider  himself,  if  he  ever 
indulged  in  consideration  of  any  kind,  as  a  gamester  that 
was  favoured  by  the  goddess  of  play.  Not  that  he  always 
lost,  by  any  means.  Every  now  and  then  after  there  had 
been  a  steady  run  on  his  purse  he  would  win  quite  a  thump- 
ing sum  of  money  and  this  access  of  victory  was  always 
sufficient  to  set  him  afresh  in  the  good  spirits  that  his  losses 
had  temporarily  lowered.  He  might  have  noted,  however, 
if  he  had  been  a  gentleman  of  nimbler  apprehension,  that 
these  gains  invariably  happened  only  when  there  was  a 
large  stock  of  his  money  in  the  hands  either  of  Mr.  Win- 
123 


I24  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

wood  or  of  Sir  Batty,  so  that  he  was  but  getting  back  a  little 
of  what  had  been  his  own.  Also  a  careful  calculation  of 
the  state  of  play  at  the  end  of  the  week  would  have  made  it 
plain  that  Mr.  Willoughby  was  always  largely  to  the  bad, 
while  Sir  Batty  and  his  friend,  Mr.  Winwood,  were  always 
to  the  good  and  pretty  equally  so.  Willoughby,  however, 
who  had  no  calculating  mind,  was  content  enough  to  go  on 
playing  and  paying,  either  in  ready  cash  or  in  sprawling 
notes  of  hand,  encouraged  by  occasional  fallacious  wins, 
and  at  all  times  satisfied  with  the  thought  that  he  was  keep- 
ing very  good  company  and  was  well  on  the  way  to  become 
a  very  fine  gentleman  indeed. 

They  got  to  Mr.  Willoughby's  place  beyond  Tavistock  in 
good  time,  and  since  Mr.  Willoughby  had  sent  a  servant 
in  advance  at  the  last  stage,  they  found  all  in  readiness  to 
receive  them  and  their  train  at  Willoughby  Homing.  Mr. 
Willoughby  in  his  heart  was  something  ashamed  of  the  old- 
fashioned  place  and  the  old-fashioned  servitors  who  would, 
he  feared,  seem  very  mean  and  droll  in  the  eyes  of  his  fine 
town  friends.  But  he  had  no  reason  to  blush  for  his  dwell- 
ing, which  was  a  warm,  well-built  and  roomy  specimen  of 
a  country  squire's  abode.  As  for  the  servants  whose  hon- 
estly outspoken  expressions  of  pleasure  at  seeing  their  young 
master  again  much  embarrassed  Mr.  Willoughby,  if  they 
were  a  trifle  homely  and  rustical  they  knew  their  business 
well  and  did  it  with  a  will,  which  was  more  than  could  be 
said  of  many  of  their  class  in  more  pretentious  mansions. 
Even  if  Mr.  Willoughby's  establishment  had  been  as  ridicu- 
lous as  it  seemed  in  the  view  of  its  thankless  master,  his 
guests  would  have  been  at  once  too  well  bred  and  too  wary 
to  offend  their  host  by  any  open  show  of  amusement.  But 
the  food  was  good  and  well  cooked,  the  wine  old  and  ex- 
cellent, the  beds  soft  and  ample. 

"If  where  you  play  well,"  said  Sir  Batty  to  Mr.  Winwood 
sententiously,  "you  also  eat  well,  drink  well,  and  sleep  well, 
what  more  need  you  ask  ?" 

On  the  following  morning  Sir  Batty  Sellars  mounted  his 
nag  before  the  porch  of  Willoughby  Homing  at  a  com- 
fortable hour  after  a  comfortable  meal.  He  explained  to 
his  host  that  he  purposed  to  ride  abroad  and  to  ride  alone. 
He  was  interested,  so  he  asserted,  in  the  lay  of  the  country 


A  VISITOR  TO  KING'S  WELCOME         125 

and  wished  to  make  investigations.  Honest  Willoughby, 
who  would  never  have  dreamed  of  traversing  the  hint,  let 
alone  the  wish  of  the  man  whom  he  was  pleased  to  regard 
as  a  demi-god,  had,  of  course,  nothing  to  say  in  objection 
to  the  scheme,  although  he  felt  that  the  sunshine  faded  from 
a  day  which  was  not  spent  in  so  magnificent  a  companion- 
ship. Mr.  Win  wood  was  indeed  a  fine  gentleman  truly,  but 
to  Willoughby  he  had  not  the  fascination,  perhaps  because 
he  had  not  the  well-assumed  amiability  of  the  Master  of  the 
Lesser  Revels.  If  honest  Willoughby  could  cherish  a  grudge 
at  being  rooked  of  his  money  it  was  when  the  spoils  fell 
ostensibly  to  Spencer  Winwood.  For  Winwood  hustled 
them  into  his  pocket  as  a  matter  of  course,  whereas  Sir 
Batty  when  he  won — which  was  his  custom — was  always 
ready  with  a  half  regretful  explanation  of  how  some  little 
trivial  thing  had  happened  to  spoil  the  skill  of  Willoughby's 
playing. 

To  Spencer  Winwood  Sir  Batty  had  explained  in  private 
that  he  quitted  him  on  important  business,  and  that  he 
trusted  to  him  to  pluck  the  pigeon  nimbly  and  briskly  dur- 
ing his  brief  absence.  Mr.  Winwood,  to  whom  pigeon  never 
occasioned  indigestion  however  often  he  partook  of  the 
meat,  agreed  with  complete  cheerfulness.  He  found  and  did 
indeed  all  but  assert  in  words,  that  Mr.  Willoughby  was  a 
dull  goose,  but  at  least  he  was  a  golden  goose.  Also,  as  Sir 
Batty  pointed  out,  since  he  and  Mr.  Winwood  evenly  divided 
the  plunder,  while  the  play  of  Sir  Batty  was  infinitely  su- 
perior to  that  of  Mr.  Winwood,  it  was  only  fair  that  Sir 
Batty  should,  if  it  pleased  him,  take  a  holiday  from  the  part- 
nership for  once  and  apply  himself  to  his  own  individual 
recreation.  Wherefore  it  came  to  pass  that  Sir  Batty,  hav- 
ing mounted  his  nag,  rode  at  a  lively  trot  in  the  direction  of 
Plymouth  town,  while  Mr.  Winwood  and  his  host,  after 
waving  adieus  to  the  departing  horseman,  were  very  ready 
to  retire  into  one  of  the  snug  rooms  of  Willoughby  Homing 
and  traffic  with  the  kings  and  queens  and  their  four  sets  of 
followers  until  the  exquisite  spring  day  had  dwindled  into 
candle  time.  Sir  Batty  before  leaving  had  laid  out  an  elab- 
orate plan  for  Mr.  Winwood's  benefit,  on  which  were  duly 
charted  the  few,  the  very  few,  occasions  on  which  Mr.  Wil- 
loughby was  to  be  permitted  to  win. 


126  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Sir  Batty  rode  at  a  leisurely  pace,  because,  though  he  was 
both  sound  and  strong  and  physically  well-knit,  he  held  it 
folly  to  solicit  fatigue  unnecessarily.  He  came  in  the  course 
of  time  within  sight  of  Plymouth  town  and  began  to  make 
enquiries  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  King's  Welcome.  He 
had  never  been  in  the  West  Country  before  and  he  cared 
little  for  its  beauties,  being  in  every  atom  of  his  composi- 
tion a  bird  of  the  town,  one  that  loved  torches  better  than 
daylight,  the  scent  of  essences  to  the  breath  of  the  hedge- 
rows, and  the  fall  of  cards  to  the  fall  of  petals.  But  it  was 
impossible  not  to  get  some  satisfaction  from  the  sweet  air 
and  the  sweet  influences  of  the  countryside,  and  moreover 
Sir  Batty  was  travelling  towards  a  much  desired  goal. 
Therefore  his  questionings  were  gracious,  for  information 
was  generous,  so  that  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  less  time  had 
passed  than  had  really  elapsed  since  he  left  Willoughby 
Homing  before  he  found  himself  cantering  blithely  along 
the  green  sideway  that  he  had  been  assured  by  his  latest 
adviser  would  bring  him  both  quickly  and  directly  to  King's 
Welcome. 

If  King's  Welcome  was  one  of  the  least  of  the  many  pos- 
sessions over  which  my  lord  of  Godalming  might  very  truly 
have  been  said  to  reign,  it  would  have  seemed  an  ample  and 
a  handsome  palace  to  many  a  nobleman  of  standing,  or  well- 
to-do  country  gentleman.  When  it  had  originally  been 
planned  and  mainly  executed  in  the  dusk  of  the  reign  of 
Henry  the  Sixth,  Plymouth  was  a  much  smaller  town  than  it 
showed  on  the  day  when  Sir  Batty  paid  it  a  visit,  and  King's 
Welcome  counted  as  a  country  house  upon  a  removed 
ground.  But  with  the  intervening  years  the  sea-port  had  so 
swelled  its  volume  and  so  encroached  upon  its  surrounding 
region  that  the  stately  manor  of  King's  Welcome  stood,  as 
it  were,  upon  the  very  fringe  of  the  town.  It  was  indeed 
so  engirdled  by  its  grounds  and  its  trees  and  its  walls  that 
it  was  able  to  preserve  for  itself  and  its  residents  as  pleasing 
a  sense  of  rural  seclusion  as  could  be  desired.  But  never- 
theless there  was  the  patent  fact  that  the  outskirts  of  Plym- 
outh might  almost  be  said  to  be  within  a  stone's  throw  of  its 
park  gates. 

Sir  Batty,  passing  through  those  gates  and  drawing  rein 
in  front  of  the  door  of  King's  Welcome,  was  met  on  the 


A  VISITOR  TO  KING'S  WELCOME         127 

instant  with  a  surprise  and  a  disappointment.  For  he  learned 
from  the  servant  who  answered  his  summons  that  Mistress 
Clarenda  Constant  was  not  within  the  precincts  of  King's 
Welcome.  A  Majordomo,  promptly  summoned,  informed 
the  knight  that  Mistress  Constant  had  verily  been  residing 
there  for  some  time — this  indeed  brought  balm  of  satisfac- 
tion to  Sir  Batty 's  annoyance — but  she  had  very  recently 
been  pleased  to  shift  her  quarters.  It  would,  however,  so 
it  seemed  to  the  worthy  Majordomo,  be  the  best  thing  if 
the  visitor  would  seek  speech  of  my  lady  Gylford,  who  would 
be  able,  more  fully  and  more  becomingly,  to  afford  him 
information. 

Sir  Batty,  having  expressed  his  instant  readiness  to  wait 
upon  my  lady  Gylford,  entrusted  his  nag  to  the  care  of  the 
servitor  and  followed  the  solemn  Majordomo  of  King's 
Welcome  through  a  multiplicity  of  halls,  and  corridors  and 
passages  until  he  was  brought  to  a  halt  in  an  ante-chamber 
overlooking  a  pleasant  garden.  Here  the  Majordomo  left 
him  for  a  moment  while  he  passed  into  an  inner  room,  from 
which  he  emerged  in  an  instant  with  the  message  that  Lady 
Gylford  begged  him  to  enter. 

Sir  Batty  followed  his  usher  into  a  large  gaunt  room 
adorned  with  a  number  of  portraits.  There  was  a  great 
hearth  on  which,  in  spite  of  the  seasonable  mildness  of  the 
day,  a  brisk  fire  was  burning,  and  in  front  of  the  fire  an 
old  lady  was  seated  in  a  high  arm-chair.  She  was  a  very 
prim  and  trim  old  lady,  neither  over-fat  nor  over-lean,  but 
of  a  comfortable  plumpness  which  went,  with  the  relative 
smoothness  of  her  skin,  to  suggest  a  taste  for  tranquillity 
habitually  enjoyed.  From  the  general  effect  of  her  person 
and  the  details  of  her  costume  Sir  Batty,  who  had  a  shrewd 
eye  for  such  matters,  reasoned  her  out  as  an  ancient  dame 
for  whom  the  world  had  not  moved  since  the  days  of  bluff 
Harry.  The  good  lady  had  been  painted  by  Holbein — Sir 
Batty  saw  as  much  from  one  of  the  pictures  on  the  walls — 
and  as  painted  by  Holbein  the  good  lady  remained  through 
all  the  years  that  had  passed  between  then  and  now.  She 
still  dressed  as  ladies  dressed  in  the  days  when  men  lost  their 
hearts  and  their  heads  to  Anne  Boleyn,  and  in  his  mind  Sir 
Batty  decided  that  she  was  a  figure  of  fun.  But  he  showed 
nothing  of  all  this  in  his  countenance  as  he  advanced  towards 


128  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

the  hearth  and  its  priestess  and  paid  her  a  profound  saluta- 
tion. 

The  old  lady,  without  rising,  bowed  an  acknowledgment 
of  his  greeting,  and  then  in  a  voice  which  nature  had  in- 
tended to  be  comfortable,  but  which  its  owner  now  forced  to 
be  querulous,  she  spoke,  without  any  preface  or  preliminary. 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not  know  what  the  world  is  coming  to 
nowadays." 

Sir  Batty,  after  another  obeisance,  begged  to  be  informed 
in  what  particular  my  lady  Gylford  esteemed  the  world  to 
be  out  of  gear. 

The  old  lady  surveyed  him  with  rpund,  childish,  aston- 
ished eyes. 

"In  what  particular  ?"  she  echoed.  "Do  I  understand  you 
to  ask  in  what  particular  ?"  Without  waiting  for  her  visitor 
to  reply  she  went  on :  "But  first,  pray  be  seated." 

Sir  Batty  drew  the  chair  which  the  Majordomo  had  set 
for  him  before  withdrawing,  to  a  discreet  distance  from  the 
fire,  for  he  was  already  sufficiently  warm  with  his  ride  and 
the  fine  morning,  and  sat  himself  upon  it  in  an  attitude  of 
respectful  attention  to  the  old  lady's  observations. 

"You  are  Sir  Batty  Sellars  ?"  the  old  lady  asked. 

Sir  Batty,  having  affirmed  his  identity  by  a  polite  inclina- 
tion, the  old  lady  went  on  again. 

"Are  you  a  relation  of  the  Batty  Sellars  who  had  the 
honour  to  be  Master  of  the  Horse  to  his  late  Majesty  King 
Henry  of  blessed  memory  ?" 

"He  was  my  grandfather,"  Sir  Batty  answered.  He  was 
not  at  all  interested  in  his  grandfather,  but  he  affected  the 
liveliest  interest  because  he  conceived  that  it  might  prove 
useful  to  him  to  conciliate  the  beldame,  as  he  mentally 
termed  her. 

"Ah !  there  was  a  man  if  you  like,"  sighed  the  old  lady. 
"We  don't  make  men  in  that  mould  nowadays,  do  we?" 
Then,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting  herself,  she  continued: 
"Not  that  you  are  not  very  well  in  your  way,  which  is  of 
no  ill  fashion,  but  to  be  round  with  you,  you  are  not  a  patch 
upon  your  grandfather." 

Sir  Batty  murmured  something  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
always  understood  that  his  grandfather  was  a  very  fine  fig- 
ure of  a  man.  He  was  very  anxious  to  get  to  the  object  of 


A  VISITOR  TO  KING'S  WELCOME          129 

his  visit  and  much  resented  the  intrusion  of  his  ancestor, 
though  he  was  careful  to  show  no  resentment. 

"There  were  men  in  those  days,"  the  old  lady  mused,  "and 
women,  too,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  say  so,  not  silly  chits 
and  minxes.  And  talking  of  chits  and  minxes,  I  understand, 
Sir  Batty,  that  you  have  been  enquiring  after  Mistress 
Clarenda  Constant?" 

"Why,  yes,  my  lady,"  Sir  Batty  replied.  "I  had  the  felicity 
to  become  acquainted  with  the  young  lady  at  Court,  where  I 
have  the  honour  to  hold  a  small  office  under  the  favour  of 
her  Majesty." 

"Not  Master  of  the  Horse,  by  any  chance?"  asked  Lady 
Gylford,  with  such  a  sympathetic  tenderness  in  her  tone  as 
amused  Sir  Batty. 

"The  devil,  the  devil,"  he  said  to  himself,  "the  dear  old 
lady  evidently  cherished  tender  sentiments  for  my  grand- 
father in  the  days  of  Noah."  Aloud  he  answered :  "No,  my 
lady,  I  am  privileged  to  call  myself  Master  of  the  Lesser 
Revels." 

Lady  Gylford  gave  a  sniff  which  seemed  to  suggest  that 
she  found  as  great  a  declension  from  old  days  in  the  office  as 
in  its  holder. 

"And  what,"  she  asked,  as  sharply  as  was  compatible  with 
her  habit  of  body  and  of  mind,  "might  you  be  wanting  with 
Mistress  Clarenda  Constant?" 

If  Sir  Batty  had  answered  in  all  candour  he  would  have 
probably  astonished  his  hearer  a  good  deal.  He  was  careful 
to  reply  warily. 

"I  am  aware  of  the  young  lady's  fortunate  betrothal  to 
your  illustrious  kinsman,  and  as  I  am  on  a  visit  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood it  seemed  to  me  no  more  than  mannerly  to  ride 
over  and  pay  my  respects." 

"You  have  wasted  your  time  in  coming  here,"  the  old  lady 
assured  him;  but  Sir  Batty  politely  begged  to  differ  from 
her. 

"Even  if  I  had  been  aware  of  Mistress  Clarerida's  ab- 
sence," he  declared,  "I  should  have  ventured  to  presume  so 
far  upon  my  slight  acquaintance  with  that  distinguished 
nobleman,  my  lord  of  Godalming,  as  to  entreat  permission 
to  wait  upon  one  who  at  once  remembers  and  renews 
the  glories  of  the  past,  and  who  does  my  namesake  of 


130  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

another  day  the  honour  to  accord  him  a  place  in  her 
memory." 

Poor  Lady  Gylford  had  not  been  addressed  after  this 
manner  for  many  a  long  day,  and  it  undoubtedly  pleased  'her. 
She  gave  the  young  man  such  an  approving  smile  that  he 
was  tempted  to  beat  a  retreat  before  she  could  have  the  time 
to  render  a  transfer  of  her  affections  from  the  former  Mas- 
ter of  the  Horse  to  the  present  Master  of  the  Lesser  Revels. 
However,  Lady  Gylford's  approval  did  not  go  so  far. 

"I  am  gratified,"  she  said,  "to  find  that  there  are  still  some 
of  the  youth  of  to-day,  of  the  male  youth  that  is  to  say,  who 
are  worthy  to  have  moved  in  the  great  days  and  breathed 
the  fine  air  of  the  time  of  King  Henry,  eighth  of  his 
name." 

"Are  there  no  women,"  asked  Sir  Batty,  with  a  view  to 
bringing  the  conversation  round  to  Clarenda  again,  "who 
are  worthy  to  have  breathed  that  fine  air  ?" 

"None,"  replied  the  old  lady,  emphatically.  "No  young 
women,  that  is  to  say,  or  at  least  none  whom  I  know  or  hear 
tell  of.  Young  women  were  young  women,  I  can  assure 
you,  in  King  Henry's  days." 

"And  what  may  they  happen  to  be  now?"  Sir  Batty  ven- 
tured to  enquire,  with  a  great  air  of  innocence. 

"Chits  and  minxes,"  replied  the  old  lady  briskly,  "chits 
and  minxes.  And  of  all  the  chits  and  all  the  minxes  com- 
mend me  to  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant." 

Sir  Batty  allowed  himself  to  look  some  of  the  interest 
which  he  felt. 

"May  I  make  so  bold,"  he  requested,  "as  to  beg  a  little 
illumination  on  this  matter  which,  as  you  may  guess,  is  of 
no  small  concern  to  one  that  knows  the  Court  and  my  lord 
of  Godalming." 

Lady  Gylford  shook  her  head  mournfully  and  fetched  a 
couple  of  deep  sighs. 

"Whatever  can  have  happened  to  my  poor  unhappy 
cousin,"  she  groaned,  "to  make  him  behave  in  this  extrava- 
gant and  fantastic  manner,  I  cannot,  for  the  life  of  me, 
imagine.  Surely  he  must  be  the  laughing-stock  of  the  Court, 
even  of  such  a  Court." 

Sir  Batty,  ever  prudent  where  he  believed  that  it  con- 
cerned his  interests  to  be  prudent,  hastened  to  assure  her 


A  VISITOR  TO  KING'S  WELCOME          131 

that  no  one  at  Court  would  presume  to  comment  upon  any 
conduct  of  my  lord  Godalming. 

"Then  Courts  have  changed  for  the  worse  since  my  day," 
Lady  Gylford  asserted  with  a  sniff.  "I  have  known  no 
Court,  I  thank  Heaven,  since  the  last  Court  of  King  Harry, 
but  if  a  man  of  my  cousin's  age  had  dared  to  make  such  a 
gaby  of  himself  he  would  have  been  the  butt  of  the  universe, 
from  the  king  on  his  throne  to  the  scullion  in  the  buttery." 

"Times  change  and  soften  manners,"  Sir  Batty  reflected 
with  satisfaction.  There  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  definite  vul- 
garity about  the  age  of  his  grandfather,  and  incidentally  of 
the  eighth  Henry,  which  made  it  a  poor  contrast  to  the  polish 
of  his  own  day.  He  considered  Lord  Godalming  as  ridicu- 
lous as  you  please,  but  he  admired  the  temper  which 
restrained  him  and  others  from  saying  so  in  his  pres- 
ence. 

"When  he  first  writ  me  of  his  intentions,"  pursued  the  old 
lady  morosely,  and  more  as  if  she  were  confiding  to  the  fire 
than  to  her  companion,  "I  thought  the  poor  old  dotard  had 
taken  a  temporary  leave  of  his  senses.  But  when  the 
mawkin  came  along  with  her  airs  and  her  graces  and  with 
my  lord's  precise  instructions  that  she  was  to  be  humoured 
and  honoured  and  obeyed  in  everything,  then  indeed  I  was 
very  sure  that  he  had  said  a  final  good-bye  to  his  wits." 

"Mistress  Constant  is  accounted  one  of  the  handsomest 
women  at  Court,"  put  in  Sir  Batty  with  the  air  of  one  who 
proffers  a  reasonable  excuse. 

"What  a  devil  has  that  to  do  with  it?"  cried  the  old 
lady,  with  a  greater  vivacity  than  she  had  hitherto  shown. 
"When  old  flesh  goes  a-wedding,  it  goes  a-lechering,  which 
is  a  filthy  thing  in  old  flesh."  The  good  lady  continued  to 
express  herself  in  this  strain  with  a  vehement  freedom  and 
directness  of  speech  which  amazed  as  much  as  it  amused 
Sir  Batty,  who  for  all  that  he  was  a  profligate  and  a  liber- 
tine, liked  to  carry  his  sins  in  the  polite  manner.  Once 
again  he  thanked  his  stars  that  it  had  been  given  to  him  to 
abide  in  the  precision,  breeding  and  decorum  of  Elizabeth's 
Court,  and  he  found  himself  wondering  if  a  later  genera- 
tion would  ever  arise,  yet  more  polite  and  refined,  which 
would  regard  his  own  happy  age  as  something  strange,  re- 
jnoved  and  uncouth.  He  soothed  himself  by  deciding  that 


132  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

such  could  never  come  to  pass,  and  once  more  addressed 
himself  to  his  beldame. 

"Am  I  to  believe,"  he  asked,  "that  my  lord  of  Godalming 
wished  Mistress  Clarenda  to  be  treated  as  if  she  were  in 
verity  a  little  queen  ?" 

"You  may  believe  as  much,"  confirmed  the  old  lady  gloom- 
ily, "although  it  sounds  unbelievable.  She  was  to  do  what 
she  pleased,  forsooth,  to  learn  what  she  pleased,  forsooth. 
She  had  but  to  ask  for  and  have  a  golden  coach,  forsooth. 
But  when  it  came  to  going  and  living  in  a  house  like  a  ship, 
my  patience  came  to  an  end,  I  warrant  you." 

"In  a  house  like  a  ship?"  Sir  Batty  repeated,  frankly  sur- 
prised. "I  fear  me  that  I  fail  altogether  to  follow  your  lady- 
ship." 

"Yet  I  speak  plainly  enough,  do  I  not?"  snapped  the  old 
lady,  with  an  unexpected  ferocity.  "There  came  a  Tom  Fool 
to  these  parts,  from  sailing  the  seas,  who  was  mad  ass 
enough  to  build  himself  a  house  that  was  shaped  like  a  ship 
upon  dry  land,  as  if  the  fellow  were  a  second  Noah  waiting 
for  a  second  Deluge.  And  it  seems  that  this  crazy  jade 
whom  I  was  set  to  bear-ward  catches  sight  of  this  top  of 
folly,  and  being  a  bigger  fool  than  the  builder,  sets  her  silly 
heart  upon  it  and  persuades  the  sea-calf  to  part  with  it  for 
I  know  not  what  sum  of  wasted  money." 

Sir  Batty  listened  to  the  old  lady's  strange  tale  with  a 
carefully  concealed  astonishment.  He  had  divined  Clarenda 
to  be  whimsical,  but  he  had  not  realised  how  whimsical  she 
might  prove  if  no  limit  were  set  to  the  range  of  her  whim. 

"But  had  you  nothing  to  say  in  this  matter?"  he  asked. 

The  old  lady  responded  with  increasing  asperity. 

"Nothing  whatever.  The  instructions  of  my  lord  were 
as  precise  as  they  were  comprehensive.  Whatever  this  bag- 
gage pleased  to  do  she  was  free  to  do.  Whatever  money  she 
was  pleased  to  squander  she  was  free  to  squander.  I  will 
indeed  do  her  the  justice  to  admit  that  she  seemed  to  be 
under  the  belief  that  I  would  accompany  her  in  her  crack- 
brained  change  of  lodging.  But  no,  young  gentleman,  no. 
I  am  willing  to  endure  much  to  pleasure  my  lord  of  Go- 
dalming, even  to  the  entertaining  and  cosseting  and  humour- 
ing a  lunatic  maid  for  whom  he  has  conceived  a  senile  de- 
sire. But  I  will  not  for  him,  or  for  any  one  else,  consent  at 


A  VISITOR  TO  KING'S  WELCOME         133 

my  time  of  life  to  quit  a  reputable  dwelling  in  order  to  lie 
like  a  boatswain  in  a  land-logged  hull.  No,  not  if  my  lord 
of  Godalming  were  twenty  times  my  cousin  and  twenty 
times  as  kind  as  I  freely  agree  that  I  have  ever  found  him." 

"Then  what,"  asked  Sir  Batty,  "has  Mistress  Constant 
been  pleased  to  do  in  this  difficulty  ?" 

"She  has  been  pleased  to  flout  me,"  responded  Lady  Gyl- 
ford  glumly.  "She  has  gone  over  to  this  ramshackle  ship- 
shape place  with  her  maid-servants  and  her  man-servants, 
and  if  she  has  not  indeed  taken  with  her  her  ox  and  her  ass, 
she  has  found  as  good  a  likeness  of  the  first  in  a  Plymouth 
matron  to  be  her  housekeeper  as  she  herself,  in  her  skittish- 
ness,  provides  one  of  the  other." 

"Dio  mio,"  said  Sir  Batty,  whose  fashion  it  was  to  air 
Italianisms,  "you  have  told  me  an  amazing  tale.  It  would 
afford  me  more  entertainment  if  the  heroine  were  not  the 
affianced  bride  of  so  revered  a  nobleman  as  my  lord  of 
Godalming." 

He  said  this  with  so  grave  a  countenance  that  Lady  Gyl- 
ford  had  it  in  her  heart  to  admit  that  almost  he  deserved 
to  rank  with  his  grandsire  and  the  gentlefolk  of  King 
Harry's  days.  Having  said  it  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  took 
his  formal  farewell  with  a  grace  and  address  which  gained 
him  the  compliment  of  a  permission  to  visit  King's  Welcome 
whenever  he  pleased,  as  Lady  Gylford  would  always  be 
cheerful  to  welcome  him. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
A  VISITOR  TO  "THE  GOLDEN  HART" 

THIS  way  and  that  way  it  came  about  that  on  the  same 
day  that  the  Master  of  the  Lesser  Revels  paid  his  visit 
to  King's  Welcome,  Mistress  Clarenda  was  seated  upon  a 
rustic  seat  in  the  flowery  and  fragrant  orchard  which  she 
had  made  her  favourite  resort.  It  lay  at  such  a  distance 
from  "The  Golden  Hart,"  beyond  the  flower  gardens,  be- 
yond the  vegetable  gardens,  that  no  glimpse  of  the  fantastic 
land-ship  was  visible  through  its  foliage.  Here  Clarenda 
loved  to  sit  on  a  rustic  seat  and  make  believe  she  was  in 
Arcadia. 

Clarenda  had  now  been,  for  some  two  weeks,  the  she- 
skipper  of  that  most  amazing  vessel,  "The  Golden  Hart," 
and  proved  once  again,  to  her  vast  satisfaction,  her  pleasure 
in  freedom  to  do  as  she  pleased.  If  she  could  not  persuade 
my  lady  Gylford  to  accompany  her  in  her  migration  from 
King's  Welcome  to  this  land-ship,  at  least  my  lady  Gylford 
was  unable,  save  by  protest  of  speech  and  glance,  to  prevent 
her  from  playing  the  bird  of  passage.  There  was  nothing 
in  the  shift  to  offend  decorum  in  the  smallest  particular. 
The  master  and  the  crew  of  "The  Golden  Hart"  had  quitted 
the  ship  and  sought  shelter  elsewhere.  Clarenda  not  only 
took  with  her  her  women,  and  such  servants  as  she  was 
pleased  to  choose  from  King's  Welcome,  but  she  was  de- 
fended by  the  presence  of  the  former  Mayoress  of  Plymouth. 
Not  indeed  that  she  had  much  to  defend  herself  against. 
Her  only  visitor  was  Master  Hercules  Flood,  who  came  daily 
at  his  appointed  hour  and  was  received  with  all  openness, 
and  was  punctually  dismissed  at  the  expiration  of  his  prom- 
ised sixty  minutes.  It  was  for  those  sixty  minutes,  enforced 
as  they  were,  that  Clarenda  bore  the  man  a  grudge  and  was 
vixenishly  resolved  to  be  even  with  him.  Nor  did  this  seem 
a  very  difficult  goal  to  gain. 

134 


A  VISITOR  TO  "THE  GOLDEN  HART"      135 

Clarenda  mused  on  all  this  as  she  sat  in  the  orchard  and 
carelessly  turned  the  pages  of  her  book,  a  certain  folio  which 
she  had  brought  with  her  from  King's  Welcome.  There 
were  wiseacres  in  that  day  who  inveighed,  with  a  great  dis- 
favour, against  the  reading  of  books  by  women.  They  ar- 
gued that  the  reading  of  books  put  ideas  into  their  heads, 
though  as  books  are  presumably  written  for  the  purpose  of 
putting  ideas  into  people's  heads,  it  is  to  be  assumed  that  the 
wiseacres  meant  foolish  ideas  or  false  ideas  or  wicked  ideas. 
For  these  same  wiseacres  the  whole  duty  of  woman  was  to 
housekeep  and  to  mother,  and  other  books  than  those  of 
cookery  and  recipes  were  pernicious  in  their  fingers.  They 
looked  sourly  upon  well-read  women;  asked  cogently  if  the 
applauded  scholarship  of  Lady  Jane  Grey  had  been  able  to 
save  her  from  the  scaffold,  and  heard  with  tight-lipped  bit- 
terness of  her  Majesty's  Latinity  and  of  her  ability  to  crack 
jokes  in  Greek  with  learned  doctors. 

These  critics  would  claim  to  have  found  justification  for 
their  strictures  if  they  had  been  aware  of  Clarenda's  imme- 
diate study.  This  was  Pullingham's  "Pageant  of  Antiquity/' 
a  folio  devoted  to  "a  new  setting  forth  of  the  fables  of  the 
ancients,  whereby  the  myths  of  Greece  and  Rome  are  made 
free  of  our  English  speech/'  Her  fancy  was  most  taken  by 
the  tale  of  Hercules  and  Omphale,  because  of  the  name  of 
the  hero  who  was  made  the  butt  and  plaything  of  the  dainty 
Queen.  Her  first  thought  was  that  it  would  have  amused 
her  greatly  to  stand  in  the  sandals  of  Omphale,  and  make 
game  of  the  good-humoured  giant.  Her  second  thought 
was  that  she  might,  in  a  measure,  do  so  still. 

Clarenda  was  so  occupied  with  the  learned  Pullingham 
and  with  the  thoughts  his  pages  had  inspired,  that  she  was 
wholly  unaware  of  the  appearance  of  a  man  in  her  sanc- 
tuary, a  man  who  was  walking  softly  over  the  grass  to- 
wards her,  with  a  satisfied  smile  upon  his  face. 

This  gentleman  had  arrived  at  the  gates  of  the  place — 
which  as  he  had  learned  on  his  journey  was  known  to  the 
neighbourhood  as  Flood's  Folly — a  few  minutes  before,  and 
by  taking  it  upon  himself  to  assert  that  he  came  charged 
with  a  message  from  my  lord  of  Godalming,  and  emphasis- 
ing his  assertion  with  the  timely  presentation  of  a  gold  coin, 
he  obtained  the  knowledge  of  where  Mistress  Clarenda  was, 


136  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

together  with  the  right  to  seek  her  there  himself,  while  he 
left  his  nag  to  the  care  of  the  servant.  Now  as  he  moved 
along  the  grass  to  the  seated  woman  he  suddenly  clapped  his 
hands  together  and  so  aroused  her  attention.  The  girl  lifted 
her  eyes  from  her  book,  the  girl  shook  her  mind  free  from 
its  meditations  and  she  stared  with  astonishment  at  what 
she  beheld.  If  a  ghost  had  come  softly  gliding  over  the 
orchard  grass  towards  her  she  could  hardly  have  been  more 
amazed  than  she  was  to  behold  Sir  Batty  Sellars,  whom  she 
believed  to  be  in  London  and  wholly  ignorant  of  her  where- 
abouts. 

Clarenda  sprung  to  her  feet  with  a  little  cry  of  joy  and 
ran  forward  to  meet  Sir  Batty  with  a  rapidity  of  motion  and 
an  eagerness  of  expression,  which  seemed  to  assure  Sir 
Batty  that  he  had  done  well  to  travel. 

"You  are  very  welcome,  Sir  Batty,"  she  cried,  "but  what 
wonder  brings  you  to  Devonshire  ?" 

"The  greatest  wonder  in  the  world,"  replied  Sir  Batty, 
as  he  bowed  low  over  her  hand  and  touched  his  lips  to  it, 
"a  wonder  that  surpasses  all  wonders  in  the  past,  in  the  pres- 
ent, and  so  I  dare  to  prophesy,  in  the  future — the  fairest, 
rarest  maid  in  England,  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant." 

Clarenda's  cheeks  and  eyes  warmed  at  the  words  of  Sir 
Batty,  for  she  dearly  loved  to  be  praised  in  courtly  phrases, 
and  she  had  perforce  fasted  from  such  sweet  food  of  late. 

"When  I  hear  you  speak  so,"  she  declared,  "I  seem  to  be 
out  of  my  exile,  and  back  again  in  my  beloved  London." 

"But  why  are  you  in  exile  at  all?"  questioned  Sir  Batty. 
"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  mysterious  departure,  this 
secrecy,  this  rustic  seclusion  ?" 

"To  know  that,"  replied  Clarenda,  "you  must  question 
my  lord  of  Godalming,  and  I  am  not  very  sure  that  he  would 
choose  to  give  you  an  answer.  It  is  enough  for  me  as  a  duti- 
ful spouse-elect  that  he  does  so  wish  it.  It  is  my  place  to 
hear  and  obey." 

Clarenda  made  this  speech  with  such  an  impudent  assump- 
tion of  demureness  and  obedience  that  Sir  Batty  laughed 
heartily. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  that  exile  has  not  changed  you,"  he  said. 
"The  lumpishness  of  the  country  could  not  dim  your  beauty, 
and  your  wit  is  as  lively  as  ever." 


A  VISITOR  TO  "THE  GOLDEN  HART"      137 

Clarenda  seated  herself  on  the  rustic  bench  and  motioned 
to  Sir  Batty  to  take  his  place  by  her  side,  a  motion  which  he 
gladly  obeyed. 

"Now  tell  me,  Sir  Batty,"  she  commanded,  "how  it  is 
that  you,  whom  I  believed  to  be  in  London  making  love  to 
all  the  maids  of  honour,  spring  suddenly  from  the  earth 
here  in  Devonshire,  for  all  the  world  as  if  you  were  Herne 
the  Hunter?" 

"The  reason  is,"  replied  Sir  Batty,  with  a  tender  note 
of  reproach  in  his  tone,  "that  so  far  from  making  love  to 
all  the  maids  of  honour  I  am  so  roundly  in  love  with  but 
one  of  them  that  I  could  not  endure  her  absence  and  never 
rested  until  I  had  discovered  whither  she  had  flown  that  I 
might  follow  her." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Clarenda,  "that  you  travelled  first  to 
King's  Welcome,  and  that  you  heard  there  of  this  land-ship 
of  mine." 

"You  are  in  the  right,"  said  Sir  Batty,  "and  a  very  poor 
opinion  my  lady  Gylford  seems  to  entertain  of  your  land- 
ship  and  of  your  choice  of  residence." 

"My  lady  Gylford,"  said  Clarenda,  "may "  She  said 

no  more  for  she  did  not  exactly  know  how  to  finish  her 
sentence  at  once  prettily  and  civilly,  so  she  just  snapped 
her  fingers  roguishly  and  set  Sir  Batty  a-laughing. 

"But  in  all  sweetness  of  simplicity,"  he  asked  when  he 
had  done  with  laughter,  "how  has  it  come  about  that  you  are 
quartered  in  this  droll  old  hulk  ?" 

"That  is  a  long  long  story,  much  too  long  to  tell,"  replied 
Clarenda,  and  immediately  proceeded  to  spin  him  the  whole 
yarn  with  great  volubility.  She  told  him  of  how  she  had 
happened  upon  the  astonishing  land-ship  and  how  she  had 
chanced  upon  its  astonishing  master,  and  of  the  amazing 
diplomacies  that  had  ensued,  and  of  the  bargain  that  was 
hard  to  make.  At  first  Sir  Batty  listened  with  a  laughing 
face,  but  as  the  tale  proceeded  it  gloomed  and  at  the  close 
he  glowered. 

"The  fellow  was  insolent,"  he  protested.  Clarenda  con- 
tradicted him  with  a  smile. 

"No,  he  was  not  insolent,  only  he  spoke  his  mind  blithely 
and  was  polite  enough  in  his  fashion.  But  he  was  mulishly 
obstinate.  He  would  not  sell.  Neither  would  he  hire.  Natu- 


138  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

rally  the  more  he  refused  the  more  I  longed  and  the  more 
I  persisted.  At  last  the  whimsical  fellow  said  that  his  ship 
of  a  house  was  wholly  at  my  service,  upon  one  condition." 

"Did  the  clown  presume  to  make  conditions?"  asked  Sir 
Batty,  with  a  frown. 

"He  is  not  a  clown,"  Clarenda  assured  him,  "although 
indeed  he  is  very  far  from  being  a  courtier.  He  is  just  a 
fresh-faced,  pleasant-voiced  country  squire,  with  something 
of  a  sea-gait,  who  is  as  obstinate  as  a  dog  with  a  bone.  His 
condition  was  that  he  should  be  permitted  to  pay  me  a  daily 
visit  of  an  hour.  It  was  plain  that  he  was  greatly  taken 
with  my  graces." 

"The  uncouthest  savage  must  be  that,"  Sir  Batty  said 
blandly.  But  he  was  not  at  all  pleased  with  the  news  he 
was  hearing. 

"Well,"  Clarenda  continued,  "I  was  so  eager  for  my  ship 
that  was  a  house,  or  my  house  that  was  a  ship,  whichever 
you  please,  that  I  yielded  to  his  conditions,  and  here,  for  a 
whole  fortnight's  compass  I  have  lived  like  a  mistress- 
mariner,  and  been  worshipped  by  my  honest  skipper  with 
a  very  wordless  worship." 

"Who  is  the  fellow?"  asked  Sir  Batty,  with  the  anger 
gathering  on  his  face  in  spite  of  his  efforts.  But  Clarenda 
was  so  amused  by  the  telling  of  her  tale  that  she  did  not 
notice. 

"I  never  heard  of  him,  nor  will  you,  for  he  has  spent 
his  life  a-voyaging.  His  name  is  Hercules  Flood.  His  age 
I  suppose  a  skip  or  so  over  thirty." 

"And  does  your  seafaring  swain,"  enquired  Sir  Batty, 
"know  of  my  lord  of  Godalming?" 

Clarenda  pinked  and  laughed. 

"I  believe  I  omitted  to  mention  my  lord.  For  indeed 
Master  Flood  seemed  so  keen  to  pay  me  court — and  all  in 
the  properest  way  of  decorum — that  I  had  not  the  heart  to 
deny  him,  especially  as  there  was  no  other  tolerable  man  in 
the  offing.  I  thought  his  foolishness  would  amuse  me,  but 
now  I  am  tired  of  it." 

"I  believe  you  set  yourself  to  make  the  oaf  fall  in  love 
with  you  from  the  start,"  said  Sir  Batty,  eyeing  her  quiz- 
zically, but  with  a  rising  anger  in  his  heart. 

"It  may  very  well  be  that  I  did,"  Clarenda  admitted.    "His 


A  VISITOR  TO  "THE  GOLDEN  HART"      139 

air  of  placid  insensibility  to  my  charms  piqued  me  to  the 
course  as  much  as  my  desire  to  punish  him  for  the  impu- 
dence of  his  proposal." 

"I  take  it,"  said  Sir  Batty  caustically,  "that  you  soon  found 
his  insensibility  dwindle." 

"None  too  soon,"  protested  Clarenda  with  a  pout.    "Here 
was  a  man  who  would  sit  with  me  for  an  hour  at  a  time  and 
question  of  London  gossip,  and  listen  to  London  gossip, ; 
with  as  much  composure  as  if  he  were  made  of  wood  or  I 
were  made  of  wax  and  no  better  than  a  babbling  doll." 

Sir  Batty  murmured  a  suggestion  to  the  effect  that  it 
served  her  right  for  handling  such  a  sea-dog. 

"But  he  is  no  common  sea-dog,"  Clarenda  protested,  more 
in  her  own  interest  than  that  of  her  landlord.  "He  is  no 
mere  boor  with  no  speech  but  the  patter  of  the  sea.  He  has 
a  good  voice;  he  is  as  neat  in  his  person  as  any  courtier, 
and  he  dresses  in  an  inland  fashion  that  would  pass,  at  a 
pinch,  in  London." 

"Shall  we  call  this  fellow  the  nonpareil?"  Sir  Batty  asked, 
with  a  querulousness  that  he  could  not  wholly  control. 
Clarenda  shook  her  head  vigorously. 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,"  she  cried.  "The  more  he  has  of 
gentility  the  less  excusable  was  his  clownishness  in  respect 
to  my  charms.  So  indeed  I  resolved  to  draw  him  on,  little 
by  little,  into  such  a  steady  increase  of  ardour  as  should  end 
in  his  combustion." 

"And  did  you  succeed  in  this  commendable  endeavour?" 
questioned  Sir  Batty,  with  a  sour  smile. 

"Can  you  ask?"  she  answered  with  a  little  frown.  "Of 
course  I  did.  I  would  languish  a  little  and  sigh  a  little  and 
then  laugh  a  little  to  find  myself  so  sighing,  and  vow  that 
I  did  not  know  what  I  would  ,be  at  or  what  was  the  mat- 
ter with  me.  And  I  would  tell  him  love  tales  of  London 
and  the  Court  and  put  cases  before  him  for  his  judg- 
ment." 

"And  how,"  said  Sir  Batty,  "did  he  play  his  part  in  this 
Parliament  of  Love?" 

"Something  like  an  owl  or  a  stockfish,"  the  girl  answered. 
"He  would  reply  to  my  pretty  themes  as  if  he  were  consid- 
ering some  problem  in  mathematics.  And  yet " 

"And  yet?"  repeated  Sir  Batty. 


140  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"And  yet,"  continued  Clarenda,  "there  were  moments 
when  I  wondered  if  the  man  were  not  in  reality  far  less 
foolish  than  I  took  him  to  be,  and  if,  after  all,  I  were  not 
playing  too  serious  a  part.  But  then  a  glance  at  his  quiet 
unconcerned  face  would  reassure  me  and  stimulate  my  re- 
solve to  quicken  him  into  life." 

"This  is  a  dangerous  game,"  said  Sir  Batty  sententiously, 
"for  a  man  and  a  woman  to  play/'  He  spoke  as  solemnly 
as  if  he  had  never  held  a  hand  in  such  a  game  in  his  life. 
"While  each  of  the  gamesters  is  firm  in  intent  to  trick  the 
other,  lurking  fate  always  suggests  a  variation  in  the  pro- 
posed ending  of  the  play.  Thus  there  is  always  a  chance 
that  the  sham  contest  may  turn  to  a  reality  for  one  of  the 
players  if  not  for  both." 

Clarenda  was  vexed  a  little  at  this  suggestion.  Already 
the  influence  of  Sir  Batty's  presence  was  asserting  itself 
upon  her  and  twisting  her  towards  mischief. 

"No,  no,"  she  protested  hotly.  "The  fellow  shall  be  as 
much  in  love  with  me  as  I  please  to  make  him,  but  I  prom- 
ise you  that  I  could  never  flicker  an  eyelid  for  him." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Sir  Batty,  "that  you  do  this  mounte- 
bank mariner  a  great  deal  too  much  honour." 

"Good  Lord,  no,"  Clarenda  cried,  "I  do  but  sport  with 
him  and  laugh  at  him  the  while,  very  much  as  Mistress  Una 
might  have  sported  with  her  lion  and  very  much  as  my  lady 
Queen  Omphale,  of  whom  I  read  in  this  book  here,  laughed 
at  his  namesake,  Sir  Hercules  of  Greece.  It  is  all  for  my 
diversion,  I  promise  you." 

"That  is  as  it  may  be,"  made  answer  Sir  Batty,  "and  that 
is  all  very  well,  but  I  still  think  that  you  do  this  sea-ruffian 
too  much  honour  in  having  any  traffic  with  him." 

"Begging  your  pardon,  Sir  Batty,"  answered  Clarenda,  "I 
know  my  course  and  how  to  steer  it."  Sir  Batty  noted,  with 
a  suppressed  smile  and  a  suppressed  frown,  the  highly  de- 
veloped imperiousness  which  Clarenda  had  gained  from  her 
unrestrained  rule  at  King's  Welcome.  "If  one  covets  a 
thing  in  this  world  one  has  to  pay  some  price  for  it,  and  I 
pay  a  small  price  for  'The  Golden  Hart5  in  making  a  gull 
and  a  gaby  of  its  owner." 

"I  marvel  me  that  he  makes  no  greater  demand  on  your 
clemency,"  reflected  Sir  Batty. 


A  VISITOR  TO  "THE  GOLDEN  HART"      141 

Clarenda  frowned.  "I  should  marvel  vastly  if  he  pre- 
sumed," she  retorted. 

Sir  Batty  was  dubious  on  this  point,  but  he  made  no  at- 
tempt to  give  expression  to  his  dubiety.  Instead  he  took 
possession  of  Clarenda's  hand,  and  after  kissing  it  devoutly 
again  held  it,  an  unresisting  prisoner,  between  his  palms. 

"This  sea-wolf  of  yours  is  a  fortunate  varlet,"  he  pro- 
tested. "What  would  I  not  give  to  pass  an  hour  in  your 
company  daily." 

"You  may  do  as  much  and  more,"  Clarenda  assured  him 
briskly,  for  indeed  she  was  scarcely  less  pleased  to  see  Sir 
Batty  than  Sir  Batty  was  to  see  her.  "Do  you  purport  to 
make  any  stay  in  this  queer  quarter  of  the  world?" 

"I  will  stay  as  long  as  you  will  suffer  my  presence,"  Sir 
Batty  assured  her.  "I  am  resting  near  Tavistock  with  Mr. 
Willoughby,  whom  I  do  not  think  you  know,  and  I  am  in 
the  company  of  Mr.  Winwood,  whom  I  am  sure  you  re- 
member." 

"To  be  sure  I  do,"  cried  Clarenda  gleefully.  "It  is  no 
great  ways  to  Tavistock,  so  you  and  your  friends  can  ride 
over  as  often  as  you  please  and  we  shall  have  romps  and 
junketings.  Lord,  I  shall  be  glad  to  look  upon  courtly  coun- 
tenances again  for,  to  tell  you  Heaven's  truth,  I  begin  to 
weary  of  my  buccaneer." 

"I  should  like  to  have  a  peep  at  this  sea-mew,"  Sir  Batty 
suggested.  "He  must  prove  a  wild  water-fowl." 

"Why,  so  you  shall,"  Clarenda  promised.  "Ride  over  to- 
morrow, you  and  your  company,  so  that  you  be  here  for  the 
hour  before  noon,  which  is  the  time  when  my  dog-fish  comes 
daily  to  plague  me." 

"What  would  he  say,"  asked  Sir  Batty,  "if  he  knew  that 
you  are  a  plighted  bride?" 

All  this  while  he  had  been  gently  drawing  Clarenda's 
captive  hand  by  slow  degrees  nearer  to  him.  He  gave  a 
sudden  pull  which  drew  the  girl  closer  to  him,  and  releasing 
her  hand  made  as  if  he  would  put  his  arms  about  her.  But 
Clarenda  was  too  quick  for  him  and  slid  to  the  farther  end 
of  the  seat. 

"My  friend,"  she  said  slily,  "I  think  i.t  is  you  who  are  for- 
getting that  I  am  a  plighted  bride." 

"I  wish  I  could,"  said  Sir  Batty,  and  vouched  for  his  sin- 


142  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

cerity  with  a  heavy  sigh.  He  had  instantly  become  all  dis- 
cretion again  with  the  first  hint  of  the  girl's  resistance.  The 
sight  of  her  had  renewed  all  his  eagerness,  but  he  had  always 
been  able  to  bridle  his  desires  when  it  served  his  interest  to 
do  so,  and  he  was  very  sure  that  it  served  his  interest  now. 

Clarenda  silently  wished  that  she  could  forget.  Indeed 
for  a  while  past  she  had  been  able  to  banish  from  her  mind 
much  thought  upon  her  future  destiny  while  she  made  the 
most  of  such  sport  as  her  strange  case  had  given  her.  But 
the  appearance  of  Sir  Batty  had  sharply  revived  old  memo- 
ries and  old  inclinations. 

"Is  it  settled  when  you  are  to  be  made  my  lady  Godal- 
ming?"  Sir  Batty  asked.  He  would  not  welcome,  as 
Clarenda  welcomed,  any  postponement  of  the  misalliance. 
Clarenda  shook  her  head. 

"I  know  nothing  of  it,"  she  answered.  "My  task  is  to 
stay  in  Devon  until  further  orders.  I  seldom  hear  from  my 
lord.  Happily  I  am  allowed  to  amuse  myself,  and  I  do." 

After  a  little  more  talk  Sir  Batty  rose  to  take  his  leave, 
renewing  his  pledge  to  ride  over  on  the  morrow  and  bring 
his  friends  with  him.  Clarenda  accompanied  him,  through 
the  orchard  and  gardens,  past  the  land-ship,  to  the  gate  on 
the  highway  and  waited  with  him  while  his  horse  was 
brought.  When  Sir  Batty  was  in  the  saddle  he  leaned  for- 
ward and  took  Clarenda's  proffered  hand. 

"It  has  been  a  great  joy  to  see  you  again,"  he  said  in  a 
low  voice.  "I  suppose  that  if  I  were  to  speak  all  the  truth 
I  should  say  too  that  it  is  a  great  sorrow,  but  the  joy  out- 
weighs the  sorrow  in  beholding  one  whose  beauty  can  not 
only  inspire  the  liveliest  passion  but  also  the  most  profound 
devotion." 

In  another  moment  he  was  cantering  along  the  road.  At 
the  crossways  he  turned  in  his  saddle,  and  seeing  that 
Clarenda  was  still  standing  at  the  gate,  he  lifted  his  hat  in 
salutation.  In  yet  another  moment  he  was  out  of  sight  and 
Clarenda  returned  to  her  dwelling  with  a  graver  face  and  a 
heavier  heart  than  she  had  worn  or  borne  for  many  a  long 
day. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IN  ARCADIA 

CLARENDA  woke  with  a  start  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, finding  fear  in  her  heart  that  the  day  from  which 
she  hoped  to  gain  much  entertainment  might  prove  foully 
minded.  She  dreaded  a  presence  of  driving  rain  or  the 
threat  thereof  in  a  lowering  sky  and  a  wailing  wind.  For 
she  had  dwelt  long  enough  in  the  West  Country  to  be  aware 
that  the  rebellious  elements  had  their  fling  there  at  times ; 
that  the  savageries  of  nature  asserted  themselves  furiously 
against  the  suavities  and  amenities  of  which  for  the  most 
part  the  West  Country  folk  discoursed,  and  that  the  spirits 
of  inclemency  were  ever  ready  to  kick  up  their  heels  on  the 
morrow  of  some  enchanting  eve.  But  all  Clarenda's  mis- 
givings were  put  to  flight  the  moment  that  she  had  parted 
her  curtains  and  peeped  through  her  porthole  upon  the 
waking  world.  It  was  as  fair  a  morning  as  ever  had  flooded 
the  Devon  plains  and  valleys  with  colour  and  filled  the 
Devon  air  with  fluent  gold.  It  was  a  day  of  that  temper  on 
which  the  world  seemed  to  grow  young  again  all  of  a  sud- 
den and  to  banish  with  the  radiance  of  its  smile  any  memory 
or  any  prescience  of  black  and  sunless  hours.  So  the  heart 
of  Clarenda  sang  in  her  sweet  body. 

She  had  planned  a  pretty  little  piece  of  affectation  for  the 
reception  of  her  visitors.  She  made  a  comfortable  couch 
of  brocaded  cushions  and  silken  pillows  upon  the  rustic  seat 
in  the  distant  orchard-close  which  she  liked  so  well,  and  set 
a  pile  of  books  upon  the  grass  hard  by,  and  propped  a  lute 
carelessly  near  to  hand.  This  was  for  the  benefit  of  the  gen- 
tlemen from  London.  For  their  benefit  too,  but  with  a 
special  regard  to  her  daily  guest  she  had  cunningly  con- 
cealed behind  a  thicket  certain  objects  that  were  to  be  used 
later.  She  had  given  instructions  that  when  Sir  Batty  and 
his  companions  arrived  they  were  to  be  bidden  as  soon  as 
143 


144  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

they  had  dismounted  to  proceed  straight  to  the  orchard,  to 
which  sweet-smelling  bower  Sir  Batty  now  knew  the  way. 

When  all  these  preparations  had  been  completed,  and  it 
was  close  upon  the  hour  when  Clarenda  expected  the  first 
of  her  company,  she  settled  herself  very  restfully  and  cosily 
upon  her  well-piled  divan,  arranged  her  robe  carefully  to 
be  at  once  graceful,  alluring  and  decorous,  and  closing  her 
eyes  pretended  to  have  fallen  into  a  nap  in  the  midst  of  her 
studies.  There  could  not,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  be  a  daintier 
picture  to  present  to  the  travellers  than  this  of  beauty 
drowsing  and  dozing  away  the  slow-moving  moments  be- 
fore their  arrival. 

But  as  in  life  an  affectation  often  becomes  a  habit,  so,  too, 
a  pretence  may  drift  into  a  reality,  and  this  came  to  pass 
with  Clarenda.  The  lulling  influences  of  the  warm,  still  air, 
of  the  blended  scents  of  fruits  and  flowers,  of  the  noise  of 
humming  insects  and  chirping  birds,  exercised  so  potent  a 
command  upon  Clarenda's  senses  that  her  make-believe  of 
sleeping  turned  to  reality  and  she  lay  deep  in  a  sound  slum- 
ber when  the  three  gentlemen  from  Willoughby  Homing 
drew  bridle  at  her  gate.  And  she  was  still  asleep  when  her 
visitors  headed  by  Sir  Batty  came  through  the  trees  to  the 
clear  space  where  the  lady  lay  and  dreamed. 

Clarenda  was  in  the  midst  of  a  dream  in  which  she  fan- 
cied that  the  Queen  had  paid  her  a  visit  and  informed  her 
that  she  had  decided  to  marry  Lord  Godalming  herself  and 
to  retire  from  the  throne  and  make  over  her  crown  to 
Clarenda.  As  the  Queen  concluded  her  astonishing  proffer 
the  notes  of  her  voice  began  to  sound  like  the  twanging  of 
lute-strings,  and  gradually  sleep  lifted  from  Clarenda's  mind 
and  she  was  lazily  aware  that  some  one  quite  near  to  her 
was  actually  picking  at  the  strings  of  the  lute.  She  guessed, 
and  rightly,  that  it  was  Sir  Batty  who  had  come  upon  her 
unawares,  and  therefore  she  still  feigned  slumber  to  learn 
what  music  might  follow  this  prelude. 

Sir  Batty  had  indeed,  on  discovering  that  Clarenda  was 
asleep,  turned  to  his  companions  with  his  finger  on  his  lips, 
and  then  advancing  cautiously  on  tiptoe,  he  had  deftly  pos- 
sessed himself  of  the  lute.  Rapidly  touching  the  strings  to 
prove  that  they  were  in  tune  he  began  to  sing  some  rhymes 
he  had  composed. 


IN  ARCADIA  145 

"Heart  of  the  heart  of  my  heart, 
Sleep  while  you  dream  of  my  name ; 
Wake,  if  you  will,  with  the  same 
Word  on  your  lips  as  they  part; 
Fanning  my  fire  to  a  flame, 
Irjeart  of  the  heart  of  my  heart." 

As  Sir  Batty  made  an  end  of  singing,  Clarenda,  who  had 
all  this  while  lain  very  still,  lifted  a  hand  and  waved  it  to 
show  that  she  was  wide  awake,  and  then  shifting  her  posi- 
tion sat  up  and  faced  her  visitors.  She  looked  very  radiant 
and  dainty  and  gay,  with  her  fair  face  flushed  a  little  from 
her  slumber,  and  her  warm-coloured  hair  a  little  disordered 
from  its  nesting  among  the  pillows,  and  a  smile  of  pretty 
mockery  curving  her  lips. 

"Heaven  mend  you,  Sir  Batty,"  she  cried,  "I  have  bet- 
ter things  to  dream  of." 

"Then  you  must  dream  of  ladies  or  angels,"  answered  Sir 
Batty,  "for  I  grant  no  man  better  than  myself.  But  I  admit 
some  to  be  my  peers  and  here  are  two  of  them,  Mr.  Spencer 
Winwood,  who  is  already  happy  in  being  known  to  you,  and 
Mr.  Willoughby,  who  has  only  lived  so  long  in  the  hope  to 
attain  that  happiness." 

Clarenda  laughed  as  she  quitted  her  seat  and  delivered  to 
each  of  the  gentlemen  her  slim  fingers  to  salute. 

"You  are  very  welcome,  sirs,"  she  declared,  "to  this 
strange  dwelling-place.  What  do  you  think  of  the  whimsy 
of  a  ship  on  dry  land  ?" 

Sir  Batty  had  already  paid  it  his  tribute  of  surprise.  Mr. 
Winwood  minced  some  nimble  epigrams  around  it,  as  if  it 
were  a  cold  joint  that  called  for  a  sharp  companionable  salad. 
Mr.  Willoughby  endeavoured  to  give  utterance  to  his  opin- 
ion that  the  thing  was  a  foolish  business  but  nobody  heeded 
him  and  he  abandoned  the  enterprise.  Speech  soon  slipped 
from  the  land-ship  to  its  fair  inmate. 

"You  are  sadly  missed  in  the  town,"  Mr.  Winwood 
averred.  "London  is  all  sackcloth  and  ashes.  Why  did  you 
give  us  the  slip  and  leave  us  all  widowers?" 

Clarenda  flushed  at  the  term  and  sought  refuge  from  em- 
barrassment in  pertness. 

"There  is  but  one  man  in  London  to  be  widowed  by 
me,"  she  said,  "and  he  is  not  yet  my  husband." 


146  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"By  the  good  leave  of  my  lord  Godalming,"  Sir  Batty  said, 
"who  is  in  spite  of  his  seventy  summers  the  most  enviable 
man  in  England,  we  are  still  and  ever  mean  to  be  all  your 
lovers." 

Sir  Batty  was  pleased  to  speak  thus  collectively  to  make 
the  declaration  more  airy  and  general,  but  the  boldness  of 
the  glance  he  levelled  at  Clarenda  assured  her  that  where  he 
seemed  to  speak  for  others  he  spoke  sincerely  for  himself. 
Mr.  Winwood  laid  a  cautionary  hand  upon  his  friend's 
arm. 

"What  would  my  lord  of  Godalming  say  if  he  were  to 
hear  you  speak  so  free?"  he  questioned. 

"Nothing,  I  think,"  Sir  Batty  answered,  "for  I  would 
give  him  no  cause  of  offence,  seeing  that  he  leaves  this  dear 
lady  free  to  follow  her  fancies." 

This  talk  about  my  lord  did  not  please  Clarenda  at  all. 
She  had  such  kindly  thoughts  in  her  heart  for  the  old  cour- 
tier who  used  her  so  graciously  and  humoured  her  whims 
so  generously  and  troubled  her  peace  of  mind  so  little,  that 
somehow  it  vexed  her  to  find  his  name  a  bandyball  for  these 
flippant  gentlemen.  Also  she  found  that  it  was  hard  upon 
her,  so  young  and  fair,  to  stand  there  as  it  were  pilloried  as 
the  promised  bride  of  an  ancient.  And,  from  whatever 
cause,  she  found  herself  something  softened  and  gentler 
since  she  came  into  the  West  Country.  But  she  felt  that  it 
was  due  to  her  recognised  sprightliness  to  betray  no  weak- 
ness. So  she  spoke  with  a  smirk. 

"Heaven  bless  the  dear  old  gentleman,  he  gives  me  a  large 
measure  of  freedom." 

She  hated  herself  as  she  spoke,  for  there  rose  before  her 
mental  vision  a  picture  of  the  grave  and  stately  elder  as  she 
had  last  beheld  him  in  the  Hall  of  the  Nymphs,  when  he 
had  made  her  the  fair  protestations  which  he  had  fulfilled 
so  liberally.  But  she  could  not  do  other  than  laugh  and 
banter  in  the  company  of  Sir  Batty  and  Mr.  Winwood.  Mr. 
Willoughby  was,  of  course,  of  no  importance  in  the  matter. 

But  it  irked  Mr.  Willoughby  to  be  set  of  one  side  in  this 
fashion,  and  moreover  he  had  been  so  played  upon  by  Sir 
Batty  during  the  ride  from  Tavistock  as  to  how  he  should 
carry  himself  and  what  he  should  say  to  prove  himself  the 
true  man  of  fashion,  that  he  itched  to  place  himself  in  a 


IN  ARCADIA  147 

better  light  before  so  lovely  a  lady.  So  he  spoke  now  with 
an  air  that  he  took  to  be  very  careless  and  debonair. 

"If  he  leaves  you  as  free  after  marriage  as  he  leaves  you 
free  in  betrothal  some  of  us  will  hope  hopes." 

He  stuttered  a  bit  as  he  uttered  this  sentence,  and  he 
turned  very  red  and  did  not  look  at  all  the  sad  rascal  that 
he  desired  to  appear.  But  he  did  at  least  succeed  in  turning 
Clarenda's  attention  to  him.  She  knew  that  it  would  be 
a  waste  of  time  and  a  waste  of  wit  to  be  angry  with  Sir 
Batty  or  Mr.  Winwood.  But  she  guessed  that  it  was  a  dif- 
ferent matter  with  this  rawster. 

"The  man  is  a  fool  who  nourishes  such  hopes,  I  promise 
you,"  she  said  sharply.  Even  as  she  spoke  she  was  sorry, 
for  she  saw  that  poor  Mr.  Willoughby  was  wallowing  in  a 
very  slough  of  fatuity,  so  she  swung  a  little  away  from  him 
and  addressed  all  three  as  if  they  were  one. 

"If  you  talk  silly,"  she  protested,  "I  shall  dismiss  you.  I 
did  not  bid  you  here  to  be  wooed  or  flattered,  for  I  am 
somewhat  cloyed  of  such  diet.  I  take  it  that  Sir  Batty  has 
told  you  something  of  the  strange  case  which  places  me 
here." 

Mr.  Winwood  nodded ;  Mr.  Willoughby  also  nodded,  but 
he  had  again  fallen  into  oblivion  and  his  agreement  passed 
unheeded.  Mr.  Winwood  spoke. 

"Batty  has  told  us  of  your  astounding  sea-calf,  and  we 
learn  that  you  have  promised  to  afford  us  a  peep  at  him." 

"He  is  a  very  good-natured  monster,"  said  Clarenda,  "and 
I  can  make  him  do  any  mortal  thing  I  wish  save  to  seem 
like  a  courtier  and  a  Londoner.  To  that  pitch  I  shall  never 
lift  him." 

"Pray  tell  me,"  said  Spencer  Winwood  with  a  great  air 
of  raillery,  "does  this  good  gentleman  sleep  in  the  stables 
or  the  garden  ?" 

Clarenda  shook  a  protesting  head  with  a  pretty  air  of  in- 
dignation. 

"No,  no,  no!  Do  you  think  I  have  such  a  disdain  for 
convention?  He  lies  at  some  inn  in  the  town  yonder;  the 
'Dolphin'  as  I  think.  Thence  he  comes  to  pay  me  daily 
visits  and  to  woo  me  with  countryside  simplicity." 

"I  am  amazed,"  cried  Mr.  Winwood  with  extended  hands. 

"I  am  amused,"  added  Sir  Batty. 


148  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Mr.  Willoughby  looked  as  if  he  would  like  to  say  some- 
thing but  was  unable  to  think  of  anything  apt  to  say. 

"He  has  used  the  sea  so  much,"  continued  Clarenda,  "and 
the  civilities  of  cities  so  little,  that  his  frankness  is  enter- 
taining. He  means  what  he  says  and  he  says  it  in  plain 
straight  words." 

Mr.  Willoughby  began  to  murmur  something  to  the  effect 
that  directness  of  speech  was  a  merit  in  a  man ;  then  sud- 
denly recollecting  that  this  was  by  no  means  a  theory  befit- 
ting a  would-be  courtier  he  bit  off  his  speech  and  was  dumb 
again.  Clarenda  went  on  with  her  discourse  without  heeding 
him. 

"There  is  no  grace  in  the  fellow,  no  daintiness  of  phrases, 
no  pretty  wit-words,  not  a  chaplet  of  similes.  He  can  stare 
with  any  man,  but  he  has  a  voice  to  no  purpose."  She  turned 
towards  Spencer  Winwood  with  a  radiant  smile.  "Tell  me 
now,  Mr.  Winwood,  you  who  are  an  accomplished  amorist, 
if  you  wished  to  please  and  praise  a  lady,  how  would  you 
deliver  her  such  a  piece  of  sweet  news  ?" 

Mr.  Winwood  seemed  to  be  much  flattered  by  this  appeal, 
for  indeed,  he  was  renowned  at  Court  for  his  skill  in  the 
fashionable  form  of  speech.  He  cleared  his  throat  and  re- 
plied briskly : 

"Something  in  this  fashion  at  a  dash — 'Excelling  and  ex- 
cellent angel,  if  all  the  many  coloured  spangles  of  the  sky 
were  eyes  that  might  gaze  into  the  limpid  well  of  my  heart 
they  would  find  Truth  there,  and  the  fair  naked  nymph 
would  hold  a  golden  book  in  her  silver  fingers  whereon  it 
should  be  written  that  the  shepherd  Strephon — whom  the 
world  calls  Spencer  Winwood — declares  himself  the  happy 
vassal,  the  radiant  slave,  the  eternal  servant  of  the  exquisite 
nonpareil,  the  incomparable  paragon,  the  enchanting  non- 
such, the  adorable  lodestar  whom  mortals  name  the  divine 
Clarenda  Constant.'  " 

Clarenda  clapped  her  hands  approvingly  as  Mr.  Win- 
wood  ended  with  a  profound  bow.  Mr.  Willoughby  gaped 
in  a  rapture  of  admiration  and  wondered  if  he  could  ever 
learn  to  talk  like  that.  Sir  Batty  Sellars  smiled  enig- 
matically. 

"Now  there,"  Clarenda  protested,  "is  a  declaration  worthy 
of  a  woman's  ear.  So,  Til  be  sworn,  did  shepherds  woo 


IN  ARCADIA  149 

shepherdesses  on  the  slopes  of  Parnassus  and  by  the  waters 
of  Helicon.  But  my  poor  blockhead  could  never  understand 
it,  let  alone  attain  it.  Yet  he  is  very  sweet-tempered  and 
yields  to  my  humours  most  affably.  Now,  for  instance,  I 
have  warned  him  that  to-day  we  are  to  play  at  shepherd  and 
shepherdess  and  I  have  made  me  a  fitting  provision  of  toys 
for  the  sport.  I  am  sure  I  shall  die  of  laughing  and  I  know 
he  will  take  my  mockery  all  in  good  part." 

"I  protest,"  cried  Sir  Batty,  "that  I  should  love  to  see  the 
show." 

His  comrades  applauded,  but  Clarenda  was  for  denying 
them. 

"That  would  'scarcely  be  fair,"  she  said.  "If  I  bait  my 
bear  for  my  own  entertainment  I  should  not  plague  him  in 
public/' 

"Not  in  public,"  Sir  Batty  argued.  "All  we  ask  is  that 
you  suffer  us  to  hide  in  all  discretion  behind  yonder  hedge- 
row." 

"It  is  not  kind,"  urged  Mr.  Winwood,  "to  deny  us  the 
satisfaction  of  beholding  your  yokel  gambol." 

"And  besides,"  said  Mr.  Willoughby,  finding  his  tongue 
with  an  effort,  "we  can  pretend  to  have  just  arrived  and 
you  can  pretend  not  to  have  seen  us  before." 

This  master-stroke  of  diplomacy  was  much  commended 
by  Mr.  Willoughby 's  friends  and  had  its  visible  effect  upon 
Clarenda.  Encouraged  by  his  unexpected  success  Mr.  Wil- 
loughby essayed  again. 

"If  we  do  not  see  your  bumpkin  jump  and  tumble  at  your 
call,  how  are  we  to  credit  your  tale  ?" 

Now  this  was  neither  a  happy  speech  nor  a  polite,  yet  it 
had  its  effect  of  angering  Clarenda  into  a  half  mood  of 
agreement.  For  she  was  very  hotly  resolved  to  prove  her 
dominion  over  the  big  man. 

"I  am  not  given  to  falsehood,"  she  said  sharply  to  Mr. 
Willoughby,  thereby  covering  him  with  confusion,  for  he 
had  never  meant  to  offend,  "and  I  am  very  sure  that  his 
antics  would  amuse  you." 

She  broke  off,  and  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand  gazed 
under  its  shadow  into  the  distance.  Then  she  pointed  in  the 
direction  where  Plymouth  town  lay  its  long  way  off  and 
where  the  riband  of  white  highway  could  be  discerned  afar, 


ISO  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

for  the  orchard  lay  on  a  lower  ground  that  declined  to  the 
fringe  of  wood  and  the  lonely  moorland  beyond. 

"See,  even  as  I  speak,  where  he  comes,"  she  said.  The 
three  gentlemen  swung  on  their  heels  and  training  their 
glances  to  her  index  saw  in  the  distance  a  small  moving  dark 
object  that  presently  became  a  rider,  galloping  steadily  along 
the  country  road.  ''Mark  how  he  carries  himself  as  gaily 
as  if  he  owned  the  world." 

"He  sits  his  saddle  mighty  well  for  a  sailor,"  commented 
Mr.  Willoughby,  who  knew  something  about  riding  if  he 
knew  little  about  anything  else.  Sir  Batty  turned  to 
Clarenda  and  pleaded  in  a  beseeching  voice : 

"For  pity's  sake  let  us  linger  a  little  and  peep  at  your 
fooling." 

Clarenda  looked  undecided. 

"Nay  now,  I  may  not,"  she  began  hesitatingly.  Sir  Batty 
looked  keenly  at  her  and  said  with  deliberation : 

"You  seem  to  be  strangely  considerate  of  this  fellow  when 
all  come  to  all.  Perhaps  the  game  is  a  more  earnest  game 
than  you  would  have  us  believe." 

Clarenda  flushed  hotly. 

"Nay,  if  you  think  that,"  she  exclaimed. 

Sir  Batty  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"You  have  only  to  convince  us,"  he  said  drily.  Mr.  Win- 
wood  put  in  his  word.  "Be  clement  and  consent,"  he  pleaded. 
"We  entreat  you  upon  our  knees,"  Mr.  Willoughby  said,  and 
plumped  instantly  down  upon  his,  with  so  comical  an  effect 
as  to  set  the  whole  party  laughing.  Clarenda  was  plainly 
yielding. 

"Well,"  she  said,  albeit  somewhat  reluctantly,  "if  you  will 
promise  on  your  honour  to  be  mute  as  mice,  and  to  steal 
away  softly  when  you  have  seen  a  few  moments  of  sport, 
so  that  you  can  return  and  appear  to  be  paying  me  a  visit 
and  to  know  nothing  of  the  matter — 

"We  promise,"  said  Sir  Batty,  smiling,  and  his  friends 
echoed  the  words. 

"Well  then,"  consented  Clarenda,  "you  may  linger  a  little 
behind  yonder  hedgerow  and  peep  through  the  leaves.  But 
you  must  keep  very  still  and  scarcely  breathe  and  never 
whisper,  for  I  would  not  let  my  poor  giant  know  that  I  have 
made  him  a  staring-stock.  And  now  as  he  will  be  here  very 


IN  ARCADIA  151 

soon,  for  as  you  see  he  is  a  swift  rider,  you  were  well  to 
take  your  posts  immediately." 

Quickly  the  three  gentlemen  tiptoed  it  across  the  grass 
towards  the  barrier  of  the  yew-tree  hedge,  behind  whose 
shelter  they  ensconced  themselves.  After  giving  a  rapid 
glance  in  their  direction  to  assure  herself  that  no  hint  of 
raiment  or  glitter  of  ornament  betrayed  their  presence, 
Clarenda  placed  herself  anew  upon  the  pile  of  cushions  and, 
composing  the  flow  of  her  gown  as  gracefully  as  before, 
awaited  the  coming  of  Master  Hercules  Flood. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  SHEPHERD  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF 

HERCULES  FLOOD,  galloping  swiftly  along  the  road 
from  Plymouth  to  "The  Golden  Hart,"  was  as  cheer- 
fully unaware  that  he  was  observed  afar  by  London  visitors 
as  he  would  have  been  cheerfully  indifferent  to  the  fact  if 
he  had  been  aware  of  it.  His  thoughts  as  he  rode  were  busy 
with  Clarenda,  and  with  the  part  that  Clarenda  had  played 
in  his  life  since  the  days  when  she  visited  his  land-ship  in 
her  golden  coach  and  he  struck  his  fantastical  bargain  with 
her.  It  had  taken  him  very  little  time  to  discover  that  he 
was  enamoured  of  the  damsel;  it  had  taken  him  longer  to 
assure  himself  that  the  maiden  was  worth  the  pains  of 
wooing,  and,  if  wooed,  of  course  of  winning.  Hercules 
Flood  did  not  admit  that  he  could  fail  in  an  enterprise  when 
once  he  had  duly  considered  it  and  given  his  mind  to  its 
proper  conduct.  Wherefore  in  the  beginning  of  his  daily 
visits  to  the  fair  Clarenda  he  was  very  busy  indeed  with  his 
study  of  the  girl  who  had  so  greatly  taken  his  fancy.  For 
all  that  he  seemed  so  eager  about  the  London  news  he  did 
not  in  reality  care  a  fig  for  them,  and  while  Clarenda  in  her 
heart  was  inclined  to  resent  his  tranquillity  in  the  presence 
of  her  charms,  he  was  growing  daily  more  appreciative  of 
their  power. 

In  a  word,  Hercules  watched  Clarenda's  proceedings  with 
an  observance  that  was  none  the  less  keen  because  it  was  so 
little  patent,  and  with  an  interest  that  would  have  made  the 
girl  gasp  if  she  could  have  been  aware  of  it.  He  saw  very 
plainly  what  she  would  be  at,  and  after  she  had,  as  it  were, 
proved  her  case  to  a  certain  point  he  was  quite  prepared  to 
humour  her  fancy.  From  the  first  moment  of  meeting  her 
he  had  been  enchanted  by  her  beauty,  but  because  he  had 
long  ago  learnt  his  lesson  in  the  book  of  humanity  he  was 
at  the  easy  pains  to  keep  his  feelings  to  himself.  He  read 
152 


A  SHEPHERD  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF      153 

her  very  imperious,  a  little  greedy,  somewhat  cold  behind  her 
lively  carriage.  The  first  glance  of  her  fine  eyes  assured  him 
that  she  thought  his  proper  place  would  be  in  the  dust  at  her 
feet,  and  Master  Flood  had  no  mind  for  such  soiling  of  his 
knees  either  mentally  or  physically.  "If  there  is  to  be  any 
wooing  or  suitoring  between  us,"  he  had  promised  himself 
with  an  easy  confidence  in  the  strength  of  his  pledge,  "it  is 
you,  pretty  lady,  who  shall  show  me  the  way  and  play  the 
first  card."  So  while  Clarenda  was  blandishing  her  hardest 
he  was  allowing  himself  only  the  most  gradual  responses, 
though  now  and  again  it  somewhat  startled  and  even  stag- 
gered him  to  find  how  ready  he  would  be  on  a  pennyworth 
more  of  provocation  to  clasp  the  girl  in  his  arms. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  in  this  particular  encounter  of 
sex  Hercules,  who  had  accepted  the  dare  in  a  girl's  eyes  with 
an  amused  determination  to  humour  her  faintly-veiled  pur- 
pose, found  himself  growing  daily  more  aware  of  the  girl's 
beauty,  more  sensitive  to  the  innocent  impudence  of  her  ad- 
vances, more  angrily  conscious  of  her  flightiness  and  yet 
more  convinced  that  the  heart  of  her  was  sound  and  that  the 
soul  of  her  was  sweet.  By  imperceptible  degrees  and  yet 
with  exceeding  swiftness  the  relations  between  the  man  and 
the  woman  had  come  to  be  established  on  the  terms  of  a 
romantic  playfulness  which  was  the  more  dangerous  the 
more  one  player  made-believe.  If  Hercules  was  shrewd 
enough  to  read  much  of  Clarenda  clearly,  he  was  too 
straightforward  himself  to  realise  that  their  relationship 
could  be  regarded  by  Clarenda  only  as  no  more  than  a  kind 
of  May  game  that  the  pair  were  playing.  He  could  not  have 
brought  himself  to  believe  that  all  her  show  of  tenderness 
was  no  more  than  a  show,  or  that  she  might  have  conde- 
scended to  such  malicious  satisfaction  for  a  foolish  sense  of 
pique.  Knowing  now  that  he  was  deep  in  love  with  the  girl 
and  being  very  sure  that  the  girl  was  well  aware  of  his 
passion,  he  took  it  for  granted  in  his  downright  fashion  that 
if  she  welcomed  his  admiration  so  gladly  it  was  because  she 
might  be  willing  to  reward  it. 

Therefore  when  the  new  Omphale  diverted  herself  by 
devising  all  kinds  of  little  impositions  and  tasks  for  her 
servant,  the  new  Hercules,  he  accepted  and  obeyed  her 
whims  with  a  serenity  of  good  humour  which  he  believed  to 


154  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

be  her  due.  He  did  not  dream  that  his  complaisance  led 
the  girl  to  believe  that  he  was  not  merely  simple-minded  but 
a  simpleton,  and  he  yielded  cheerfully  to  her  caprices  believ- 
ing that  all  the  while  there  lurked  such  a  fascinating  hint  of 
kindness  behind  it  all  as  seemed  to  compensate  for  her  tricks. 

All  this  sport  of  love-making  had  proved  so  strange  and 
sweet  to  Hercules  that  he  had  been  well  content  for  a  while 
to  linger  amidst  its  roses.  He  had  been  in  no  hurry  to  put 
an  end  to  the  pastime.  He  wished  in  his  honest  way  to  be 
quite  sure  of  himself  and  to  be  quite  sure  of  the  girl  before 
he  ran  his  thoughts  into  words.  Now  he  knew  that  he  was 
sure  of  himself,  and  he  believed  that  he  was  sure  of  her, 
and  he  decided  that  the  time  had  come  to  voice  his  hopes. 
As  he  had  taken  an  understanding  between  himself  and  the 
maid  for  granted,  that  only  needed  to  be  expressed  to  be 
ratified,  so  now  he  judged  that  the  hour  to  ratify  had  struck. 
The  term  of  Clarenda's  tenantship  of  "The  Golden  Hart" 
was  running  out,  and  as  he  rode  now  through  the  fair  June 
forenoon  he  made  up  his  mind  to  speak. 

It  was  his  custom  to  visit  "The  Golden  Hart"  by  a  special 
way  of  his  own.  As  Clarenda  chose  to  give  him  audience 
in  the  orchard  he  did  not  make  for  the  main  entrance  of  his 
estate,  but  took  a  half  circle  around  it  which  brought  him 
to  a  small  gate  in  its  further  wall  which  faced  upon  a  fringe 
of  wood  and  the  stretching  moorland.  Here  he  dismounted, 
tethered  his  horse  to  a  tree,  and  producing  a  key,  opened  the 
gate  and  entered  the  orchard. 

Thus  it  was  that  he  walked  with  complete  unconsciousness 
into  the  trap  that  had  been,  more  than  half-accidentally,  laid 
for  him.  Had  he  come  by  his  own  front  door,  he  must  have 
taken  his  horse  to  the  apology  for  formal  stabling  that  was 
built  in  below  decks  on  the  larboard  of  "The  Golden  Hart," 
and  have  found  three  unfamiliar  horses  feeding  there.  The 
which  would  have  prompted  inquiry  and  the  information 
that  strangers  were  in  Mistress  Clarenda's  company.  But 
he  came  by  the  back  way  and  had  no  idea,  as  he  closed 
the  gate  behind  him,  that  there  was  anything  momentous 
in  the  action.  A  few  paces  across  the  grass  of  the  orchard 
close  brought  him  nigh  to  the  rustic  seat  and  to  the  divinity 
it  enthroned. 

Hercules  surveyed  the  seeming  sleeper  with  a  faint  smile 


A  SHEPHERD  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF     155 

which  asserted  his  native  intelligence.  Then  in  a  cheery 
voice  that  would  have  carried  from  one  end  of  a  ship  to 
another,  he  saluted  her  with  a  lusty  "Good  morning." 

Had  Clarenda  been  really  and  truly  asleep  that  jovial 
greeting  would  have  aroused  her.  Even  though  she  was 
only  shamming  slumber  it  caused  her  something  of  a  start, 
and  she  swung  round  to  a  sitting  posture  with  great  rapidity 
and  faced  the  speaker  with  something  of  reproof  in  her 
gaze. 

"Good  Lord,"  she  grumbled.    "How  you  startled  me." 

The  smile  on  Hercules'  countenance  had  been  by  this  time 
widened  to  a  downright  grin. 

"I  do  not  think  you  were  really  asleep,"  he  said  coolly, 
"though  I  do  not  understand  why  you  should  feign  slumber." 

"There  are  many  things  in  the  world  that  you  do  not  un- 
derstand," retorted  Clarenda.  "But  of  course  I  was  asleep." 

Hercules  shook  his  head  with  such  an  air  of  good-hu- 
moured incredulity  as  fairly  exasperated  Clarenda,  for  this 
was  not  at  all  the  way  she  wished  her  sea-servant  to  behave. 

"O  monstrous  rebel  against  all  sentiment,"  she  cried,  "you 
should  never  doubt  a  lady's  word." 

"Not  even  when  she  is  fibbing?"  Hercules  asked  quietly, 
as  he  seated  himself  by  her  side. 

"Then  least  of  all,  heretic,"  Clarenda  protested,  edging  a 
little  away  from  him  in  affected  disdain.  "You  are  very 
uncouth  and  it  is  truly  a  hard  business  to  civilise  you." 

Hercules  leaned  back  in  his  corner  and  surveyed  her  with 
curiosity. 

"Why  should  you  wish  to  civilise  me  ?"  he  asked. 

"Because  I  am  a  town  damsel  and  no  rustical  sylph," 
Clarenda  answered.  "For  my  part  I  love  town  fashions, 
town  manners,  town  habits,  and  town  gallants  to  air  and 
wear  them.  I  would  have  you  more  of  the  mode,  my  savage. 
I  would  shape  a  Valentine  out  of  your  Orson." 

Hercules  did  not  seem  to  be  impressed  by  the  picture,  or 
the  damsel's  wish. 

"I  have  used  too  many  seas  and  soils  to  prize  trifles,"  he 
said  sturdily.  "I  set  my  own  fashion  and  follow  it." 

Clarenda  made  a  grimace. 

"If  you  wish  to  please  me  you  must  follow  mine,"  she 
pouted. 


156  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"No,  lady,  no,"  Hercules  answered  simply.  "It  is  my 
very  dear  wish  to  please  you,  but  if  I  am  to  please  you  at  all 
it  must  be  as  honest  Hercules  Flood  and  not  as  a  mounte- 
bank, or  the  monkey  of  a  mountebank.  I  make  no  doubt 
that  your  courtier  may  be  a  proper  fellow  enough,  and  so 
long  as  he  has  a  man's  heart  it  matters  little  what  clothes 
he  wears  or  what  speech  he  minces.  But  his  way  is  not 
my  way,  and  I  should  look  but  a  foolish  daw  in  his  fine 
feathers." 

"Well,  well,  you  shall  be  what  you  will,"  Clarenda  con- 
descended, "so  long  as  you  consent  to  play  games  with  me." 

"What  kind  of  games?"  Hercules  asked,  cheerfully,  will- 
ing to  humour  her,  but  wondering  a  little  what  new  foolish- 
ness she  would  be  at. 

"Country  games,"  Clarenda  answered,  "Arcadian  games." 

"And  what  may  those  be?"  Hercules  questioned.  Clar- 
enda uttered  a  little  shriek. 

"Surely,"  she  cried,  "you  are  never  such  a  wild  man  as 
not  to  have  read  that  most  mellifluous  book  'Arcadia'?" 

"I  have  little  time  for  reading,"  Hercules  admitted,  "yet 
the  name  seems  somehow  to  hum  in  my  head.  Who  made 
the  book?" 

Clarenda  stared  at  him  in  disapproval. 

"How  can  you  ask,"  she  said.  "Why,  who  but  the  young 
lion  of  Pembroke,  Philip  Sidney?"  Hercules'  face  bright- 
ened. 

"Philip  Sidney,"  he  said.  "There  was  a  true  man  for 
you.  I  marvel  that  he  found  time  for  such  nonsense." 

"It  is  not  nonsense."  Clarenda  protested  hotly  "Sir 
Philip  did  not  think  that,  because  he  was  a  soldier  and 
a  sailor,  it  was  beneath  him  to  write  finely  as  well  as  to 
live  finely."  She  paused,  suddenly  recollecting  that  her 
immediate  business  was  not  a  discussion  on  polite  letters 
but  the  improvisation  of  a  comedy.  "However,"  she  went 
on,  "we  shall  not  quarrel  if  only  you  will  come  a  little 
ways  into  Arcadia  with  me.  Arcadia  has  set  the  fashion 
to  be  pastoral,  wherefore  you  and  I  must  play  shepherd 
and  shepherdess." 

"Such  folk  are  simple  folk,"  suggested  Hercules  dryly. 
"Do  we  kiss  in  our  play?" 

"Dear  Lord,  no,"  Clarenda  cried,  with  a  great  affecta- 


A  SHEPHERD  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF      157 

tion  of  horror.  "It  is  the  most  if  you  touch  my  finger-tips. 
But  you  shall  see  that  I  am  well  prepared  to  initiate  you 
into  Arcadian  mysteries,  for  here  are  our  pastoral  trap- 
pings." 

As  she  spoke  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  skipping  to  a 
neighbouring  cluster  of  rose-bushes,  dipped  for  a  moment 
into  disappearance  behind  them.  Presently  she  emerged 
with  a  pair  of  be-ribboned  shepherd's  crooks  in  one  hand 
and  a  tabor  in  the  other,  while  a  garland  of  roses  swung 
on  either  wrist. 

"Here  are  our  implements,"  she  cried  to  the  astonished 
Hercules,  "here  are  our  pastoral  belongings." 

As  she  spoke  she  set  her  burdens  on  the  seat,  and  picking 
up  one  of  the  garlands  laid  it  daintily  upon  her  tresses, 
while  she  caught  up  a  crook  and  leaned  against  it  with  a 
provocative  smile. 

"Tell  me,  now,"  she  questioned,  "do  I  look  like  a  true 
shepherdess  with  my  roses  upon  my  poll?" 

Hercules  surveyed  her  with  a  look  of  frank  admiration. 

"You  are  a  wonderful  lass,"  he  avowed.  "The  roses 
do  not  make  you  more  beautiful.  It  is  you  who  beautify 
the  roses." 

Clarenda  clapped  her  hands  joyously. 

"Why  you  could  hardly  have  done  better  if  you  had 
been  indeed  a  courtier,"  she  cried.  "But  now  it  is  my  turn 
to  see  how  you  look  in  your  rustic  finery." 

As  she  spoke  she  plucked  the  hat  from  his  head  and 
clapped  one  of  the  garlands,  a  little  awry,  upon  his  thatch 
of  curling  hair.  Next  she  forced  the  crook  into  his  right 
hand  and  made  a  lodging  for  the  tabor  in  the  curve  of  his 
left  arm.  Then  she  fell  back  a  pace  or  two  to  look  at 
the  result  of  her  composition,  to  which  Hercules  had  sub- 
mitted with  the  completest  good-humour. 

"By  all  the  little  sylvan  gods,"  she  asseverated, 
"you  make  as  brave  a  shepherd  as  ever  came  out  of  Ar- 
cady." 

Hercules  surveyed  his  adornments  with  a  smile. 

"A  shepherd  seems  foolish  without  sheep,"  he  suggested, 
as  he  put  the  tube  of  the  tabor  in  his  lips  and  gave  the 
bag  a  squeeze  which  sent  a  squalling  noise  across  the 
orchard.  Clarenda  caught  eagerly  at  his  suggestion. 


158  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"I  have  thought  of  that,  too,"  she  exulted,  "though 
the  sheep  may  make  the  shepherd  look  more  foolish 
still." 

Once  again  she  dipped  a  white  hand  behind  the  roses 
and  withdrew  it  holding  a  fresh  piece  of  treasure-trove. 
This  time  it  was  an  effigy  of  a  sheep,  very  woolly  and  very 
white,  which  stood  on  a  wooden  stand  that  had  wooden 
wheels  to  it.  It  had  a  bow  of  blue  ribbon  round  its  neck 
and  a  long  piece  of  blue  ribbon  to  serve  as  a  lead.  It  would 
have  delighted  a  child,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  afford  much 
delight  to  Hercules  as  Clarenda  put  the  ribbon  into  his 
hand. 

"Now  you  are  a  perfect  Strephon,"  Clarenda  vowed,  and 
dropped  him  a  curtsey.  Hercules  stooped  and  patted  the 
toy's  shaggy  sides. 

"I  have  not  seen  so  fine  a  sheep,"  he  declared,  "since  I 
counted  my  height  by  inches." 

"It  is  a  fine  sheep,"  Clarenda  agreed,  "and  you  make  a 
fine  shepherd  to  guard  and  cherish  it.  Now,  shepherd,  you 
must  draw  your  sheep  after  you,  and  you  must  come  danc- 
ing to  me,  a-playing  upon  your  tabor." 

Hercules  gave  the  instrument  a  hug  and  made  it  squeal 
again  very  dismally. 

"I  fear  me,"  he  apologised,  "I  do  not  know  how  to  play 
upon  the  tabor,  but  if  you  will  give  me  freedom  to  use  a 
boatswain's  whistle " 

"By  your  leave,"  Clarenda  insisted,  "you  must  make  the 
best  shift  you  can  with  a  tabor."  She  fell  back  a  little  and 
gaped  at  him  in  mock  horror.  "O  dear  god  of  gardens," 
she  cried,  "how  clumsily  you  do  carry  your  crook." 

"Well,"  Hercules  admitted,  "to  be  honest  with  you,  I 
would  sooner  handle  cutlass  or  marlingspike." 

"That  is  as  it  may  be,"  snapped  Clarenda.  "We  do  not 
want  such  implements  in  Arcadia.  And  now,  shepherd, 
you  must  sing  me  a  song." 

"Sing  you  a  song,"  Hercules  repeated,  with  a  jolly  laugh. 
"And  why  should  I  sing  you  a  song,  and  on  so  fine  a 
morning  too?" 

"As  I  have  a  soul  to  save,"  protested  Clarenda,  "I  never 
came  across  any  man  so  pitifully  ignorant  of  the  rules  and 
customs  of  Arcadia.  All  shepherds  sing  songs  to  their 


A  SHEPHERD  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF      159 

shepherdess,  or  to  their  flock  if  no  one  else  be  by,  or  to 
both,  if  both  be  in  company,  as  at  this  present." 

"You  will  be  asking  me  to  dance  a  hornpipe  next,"  said 
Hercules,  at  which  Clarenda  frowned,  for  the  dancing  of 
hornpipes  made  no  part  of  the  Arcadian  ritual,  "but  as- 
suredly you  shall  have  your  will.  You  may  have  heard  bet- 
ter singers,  but  none,  I  swear,  more  willing  to  please.  But 
as  I  know  no  ditties  about  sheep,  you  must  needs  be  con- 
tent with  a  sailor's  chanty." 

With  that  he  lifted  up  his  voice  and  began  to  sing  in  a 
voice  that  was  patently  free  from  all  serious  training,  but 
that  was,  nevertheless,  a  pleasant  voice  and  a  musical,  with 
a  rough  virility  about  it  and  yet  having  a  richness  and  sweet- 
ness withal  that  might  have  made  it  very  agreeable  hear- 
ing under  happier  surroundings.  And  this  was  his  song: 

"There  lived  a  wench  on  Shooter's  Hill 
(Heave  away,  bully  boys,  heave  away), 
And  I  think  that  her  name  was  Joan  or  Jill 
(Heave  away,  bully  boys,  heave  away). 
Whatever  she  did,  she  did  with  a  will, 
And  she  loved  to  gorge,  and  she  loved  to  swill, 
So  she  ate  her  full,  and  she  drank  her  fill, 
And  very  likely  she  does  so  still 
(Pull  away,  bully  boys,  pull  away)." 

Now  it  may  have  been  simplicity,  and  also  it  may  not, 
which  led  Hercules  to  vociferate  a  ditty  so  incongruous  to 
his  trappings.  But  from  the  first  line  it  had  the  effect  of 
forcing  Clarenda  to  put  her  pretty  fingers  into  her  pretty 
ears,  where  she  kept  them  until  she  could  see  by  the  stillness 
of  her  shepherd's  features  that  he  had  made  an  end  of  sing- 
ing. Then  she  withdrew  her  fingers,  and  with  knitted  brows 
addressed  Hercules. 

"Heaven  and  earth,"  she  gasped,  "what  howling  is  this?" 

"It  is  a  sailor's  chanty,"  Hercules  answered,  "that  has 
lifted  my  spirits  in  many  a  hurricane.  There  are  nine-and- 
twenty  verses  to  it,  each  one  better  than  the  last.  Will 
it  please  you  that  I  go  on  with  the  business?" 

"The  Lord  forbid,"  cried  Clarenda.  "Such  a  blustering 
snatch  may  be  all  very  well  in  a  hurricane,  but  here  we 
lie  in  a  calm,  and  your  song  is  not  to  the  purpose.  How- 


160  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

ever  since  you  seem  to  be  willing  and  may  prove  to  be 
apt,  I  will  be  so  good  as  to  teach  you  a  madrigal  that  is 
better  fitted  for  Arcadian  sweetness.  Here  is  the  song  for 
which  you  should  go  to  school." 

She  seated  herself  upon  the  bench  and  with  her  hands 
demurely  folded  in  her  lap  and  the  most  innocent  expres- 
sion on  her  face,  began  to  sing,  to  a  simple  little  lilting  air, 
some  silly  words  in  a  very  fresh  and  tunable  voice: 

"My  little  sheep, 
Awake  from  sleep, 
And  caper  to  my  tabor: 
Call,  fleecy  ram, 
To  woolly  dam, 
Like  neighbour  unto  neighbour, 
'Baa,  baa,  baa.' " 

"Upon  my  honour,"  Hercules  declared,  "I  like  my  song 
better  than  yours." 

"That  may  very  well  be,"  replied  the  maid,  "but  it  is  my 
taste  that  reigns  in  Arcadia.  So  you  must  listen  carefully 
and  sing  after  me  as  like  as  you  can  compass." 

Straightway  Clarenda  shifted  to  a  singing  voice  again 
and  began: 

"My  little  sheep, 
Awake  from  sleep, 
And  caper  to  my  tabor." 

Hercules,  who  really  had  an  ear,  caught  the  air  quickly 
enough  and  echoed  it: 

"My  little  sheep, 
Awake  from  sleep, 
And  caper  to  my  tabor." 

"Good,  very  good,"  Clarenda  applauded.  "Now  for  the 
rest  of  the  stanza." 

"Call,  fleecy  ram, 
To  woolly  dam, 

Like  neighbour  unto  neighbour, 
'Baa,  baa,  baa.' " 

Hercules  was  really  doing  very  well  with  his  warbling, 
and  when  he  came  to  the  last  line  he  repeated,  with  great 


A  SHEPHERD  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF      161 

fidelity,  the  comic  effect  that  Clarenda  had  imparted  to  the 
utterance  of  the  triple  Baas.  What  was,  however,  his 
astonishment  when  as  his  voice  died  away  a  great  chorus 
of  bleating  arose  from  behind  an  adjacent  yew-hedge.  For 
a  moment  he  was  taken  unawares  and  taken  aback,  and 
before  he  could  rally  his  surprised  senses  to  ask  the  mean- 
ing of  the  marvel,  three  gentlemen  in  rich  habits  came 
staggering  out  of  their  place  of  shelter  and  advanced  with 
a  rolling  gait  towards  the  spot  where  Clarenda  and  Hercules 
were  standing,  their  hands  clapped  to  their  sides  and  their 
bodies  rocking  with  laughter.  Each  of  the  three  gentle- 
men was  bawling  "baa"  upon  "baa"  as  loudly  as  he  could 
for  the  laughter  that  choked  him  between  each  utterance. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

HERCULES  TELLS   A   TALE 

AS  Clarenda  turned  towards  the  intruders  she  glanced 
at  her  shepherd's  face  and  seemed  to  catch  for  the 
moment  such  a  flash  of  fire  in  the  sea-coloured  eyes  as 
startled  her.  But  in  a  second  the  face  of  Hercules  was 
as  placid  as  if  the  unexpected  interruption  was  the  pleas- 
antest,  welcomest  thing  in  the  world,  and  he  joined  in  the 
laughter  and  the  bleating  with  a  more  dominant  voice  than 
the  others. 

"Baa,  baa,  baa,"  he  bellowed,  and  laughed  lustily  in  the 
intervals  of  his  thunder.  "Now  are  we  all  sheep  together. 
But  who  be  these  rams  that  have  butted  out  of  the  thicket?" 

Clarenda  was  beginning  to  repent  of  her  jest  though 
she  was  pleased  to  find  that  Master  Flood  took  it  in  such 
good  part.  Not  altogether  pleased,  it  may  be,  for  she  had 
no  mind  to  admire  a  tame  giant,  but  still  on  the  whole 
pleased. 

"For  shame,  sirs,"  she  said  to  the  three  reeling  gentle- 
men, "to  come  thus  indiscreetly  into  our  presence.  You 
have  no  right  to  invade  my  quiet  orchard  unannounced." 
She  turned  to  Hercules  with  a  pretty  air  of  apology.  "These 
are  some  good  friends  of  mine  from  London  that  love 
laughter  dearly." 

"Say  no  more,"  said  Hercules  with  an  air  of  uncon- 
querable phlegm.  "I  am  heartily  of  their  mind.  Nothing 
in  the  world  is  better  than  laughter,  for  it  makes  your  dull 
liver  jig.  Will  you  not  make  these  merry  gentlemen  known 
to  me,  for  belike  by  and  by  we  may  all  find  occasion  for 
merriment  together." 

Clarenda  witnessed  with  some  surprise  and  more  disap- 
pointment the  bland  calm  amiability  of  Hercules.  She  de- 
162 


HERCULES  TELLS  A  TALE  163 

cided  that  after  all  he  was  a  clownish  slow-witted  fellow. 
The  knowledge  eased  her  mind,  for  if  it  did  not  hurt  him 
to  be  made  a  butt  of  she  had  done  him  no  hurt. 

"Master  Hercules  Flood,"  she  said,  "this  is  Sir  Batty 
Sellars,  that  has  the  honour  to  be  the  Master  of  the  Lesser 
Revels  at  the  Court  of  her  most  gracious  Majesty.  This 
is  Mr.  Spencer  Winwood,  son  of  my  lord  Bolton.  This  is 
Squire  Willoughby  of  Willoughby  Homing.  Gentlemen, 
this  is  Captain  Hercules  Flood,  one  that  has  used  the  seas 
this  great  while." 

Each  of  the  three  gentlemen  as  Clarenda  named  his  name 
saluted  Hercules  with  what  Clarenda  very  well  knew  to 
be  derisive  extravagance,  but  which  Hercules  seemed  to 
accept  in  the  best  possible  part,  as  the  customary  demeanour 
on  the  presentation  of  strangers,  and  he  returned  the  salutes 
of  the  mocking  gentlemen  so  pleasantly  that  it  was  plain 
to  the  girl  that  he  saw  nothing  amiss. 

"You  must  forgive  us,  fair  lady,"  said  Sir  Batty,  address- 
ing Clarenda,  "and  you  too,  Master  Flood" — here  he  turned 
his  head  towards  Hercules — "if  we  took  you  thus  by  sur- 
prise. But  we  were  unaware  you  had  company,  and  when 
we  found  this  good  gentleman  singing  we  would  not  in- 
terrupt him  until  it  was  time  to  join  in  with  his  chorus." 

Clarenda  felt  relieved  that  the  episode  had  taken  so 
tranquil  an  ending.  It  was  truly  no  offence  to  bait  one 
that  took  a  baiting  so  affably. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "now  that  we  are  all  friends  together, 
let  us  go  within  and  feast." 

The  gentlemen  from  London  seemed  very  ready  to  ac- 
cept so  pleasant  an  invitation,  but  Hercules  interposed  be- 
tween them  and  their  acceptance. 

"I  pray  your  pardon,  lady,"  he  said  smoothly,  "but  as 
these  blithe  lords  are  so  fond  of  mirth,  I  have  a  merry 
tale  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue  which  I  will  swear  they  should 
find  diverting." 

"Deliver  it  by  all  means,  Master  Flood,"  Clarenda  ac- 
corded, but  Master  Flood  shook  his  head. 

"Alas !"  he  said,  "my  tale  is  a  thought  too  skittish  for 
a  lady's  ears." 

Clarenda,  who  had  no  wish  for  a  reputation  of  primness, 
gave  a  little  laugh. 


164  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"Dear  Master  Flood,"  she  asserted,  "do  not  be  bashful. 
We  are  not  so  prudish  at  Court." 

But  it  seemed  that  Master  Flood  was  not  to  be  persuaded 
from  his  squeamishness. 

"I  cry  you  mercy,"  he  said ;  "but  you  must  forgive  my 
quarter-deck  modesty.  My  story  is  only  for  men's  hear- 
ing." 

Clarenda  gave  him  a  little  sharp  look  of  suspicion,  but 
there  was  nothing  in  the  open  good-humour  of  his  counte- 
nance to  suggest  that  he  meant  anything  other  than  what 
he  said.  There  was  patently  no  reason  why  she  should 
not  leave  the  gentlemen  to  themselves  and  their  gay  tales 
while  she  went  within  to  prepare  for  their  entertainment. 

"Well,  well,  have  your  way,"  she  consented,  "and  tell 
your  tale.  But  do  not  linger  too  long  over  naughtiness.  My 
patience  does  not  endure  waiting  sweetly." 

She  dipped  the  company  a  sweeping  reverence,  rose  swan- 
like  from  her  squandered  plumage  and,  taking  to  her  heels, 
ran  swiftly  across  the  grass  and  was  out  of  sight  before 
the  courtly  gentlemen  had  done  making  their  congees. 
When  they  had  done  they  turned  towards  Hercules  again, 
with  their  faces  still  inflamed  with  mirth. 

"Your  tale,  honest  friend,"  entreated  Sir  Batty,  "your 
tale.  If  it  do  but  prove  as  diverting  as  your  ditty  I  swear 
I  shall  seldom  have  passed  a  better  afternoon." 

Hercules  surveyed  the  three  laughing  gentlemen  with  a 
visage  from  which  all  expression  seemed  to  be  discharged. 
His  deriders  could  read  there  neither  surprise  nor  anger 
nor  alarm.  And  if  his  face  told  them  nothing  neither  did 
his  speech,  for  he  did  not  open  his  mouth  to  utter  a  sound. 
This  singularity  of  demeanour  had  the  effect  of  intruding 
a  disconcerting  element  into  the  mirth  of  the  three  gentle- 
men. Sellars  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  glanced  from 
the  impassive  visage  of  Hercules  to  his  companions,  from 
whose  faces  the  smile  was  slowly  dwindling. 

"I  find  our  honest  friend  less  merry  than  he  pretended," 
he  said.  "The  tale  he  talked  of  seems  to  stick  in  his  giz- 
zard." 

Sir  Batty's  speech,  with  which  his  companions  seemed  to 
be  in  complete  agreement,  had  the  effect  of  lending  some 
animation  to  the  gravity  of  Hercules'  carriage.  He  moved 


HERCULES  TELLS  A  TALE  165 

very  slowly  up  to  Sir  Batty  and  then,  opening  his  mouth 
very  wide,  he  blew  a  prolonged  "baa"  into  his  face.  Then 
with  equal  deliberation  he  did  the  like  in  turn  to  Mr.  Win- 
wood  and  Mr.  Willoughby. 

The  three  gentlemen  thus  bleated  on  gaped  at  Hercules 
with  nonplussed  expressions  as  if  they  were  at  a  loss  how 
to  carry  themselves  in  this  odd  turn  of  affairs.  The  Master 
of  the  Lesser  Revels  voiced  their  annoyance. 

"If  that  be  your  tale  I  care  not  for  it,"  said  Sir  Batty 
with  a  frown. 

Mr.  Winwood  and  Mr.  Jack  Willoughby  seemed  to  be 
wholly  of  Sir  Batty's  opinion.  Hercules  alone,  of  the  little 
company,  appeared  to  be  unruffled  and  cleanly  at  his  ease. 
Though  he  wore  a  fantastic  chaplet  upon  his  brows  and 
though  he  carried  a  sylvan  crook  in  his  grip  he  wore  his 
adornments  so  simply  and  unaffectedly  that  they  seemed 
to  blend  harmoniously  with  his  daily  habit  and  he  appeared 
less  incongruous  in  his  gear  of  sham  shepherd  than  either 
of  his  three  enemies  in  their  point  device  of  latest  London. 

"Yet  it  is  told  in  your  chosen  language,"  said  Hercules 
coolly,  "for  you  pretend  to  be  sheep.  But  I  think  it  would 
be  more  natural  for  your  magnificences  to  bray." 

Sir  Batty  stared  at  the  speaker  in  unfeigned  amazement. 
He  had  so  taken  it  for  granted  that  the  man  was  an  abash- 
able  clown  that  he  could  scarcely  credit  undeception. 

"Do  you  please  to  be  impudent?"  he  asked  with  the  asper- 
ity of  one  that  commands  a  cur  to  heel.  Hercules  smiled 
blandly. 

"How  can  you  think  so?"  he  asked.  "Now  you  might 
call  me  impudent  if  I  were  to  tweak  you  by  the  beard, 
flick  you  on  the  nose,  or  thus  unbonnet  you." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  with  great  swiftness  he  put  into  action 
each  of  his  suggested  impudences,  for  he  took  hold  of  Sir 
Batty's  beard  and  tugged  it  sharply,  administered  a  sting- 
ing fillip  to  Mr.  Winwood's  aristocratic  nose  and,  with  a 
dexterous  back-hander,  knocked  Mr.  Willoughby's  plumed 
hat  from  his  head  to  the  grass  at  some  distance  from  where 
he  stood.  These  feats  were  performed  so  briskly  that  no 
one  of  the  victims  had  the  time  to  make  an  effort  to  pre- 
vent the  impertinence. 

Realisation  of  what  had  happened  came  soonest  to  Sir 


166  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Batty.  In  one  second  he  had  reddened  furiously  and  then 
paled.  In  the  next  second  his  sword  was  out  and  he  made 
a  furious  thrust  at  Hercules,  who,  however,  lightly  put 
the  point  aside  with  a  twirl  of  his  crook. 

"Come,  sirs,  come,"  cried  Sir  Batty,  in  a  white  heat  of 
rage,  "draw  upon  this  fellow,  and  stick  him  like  a  pig." 

Winwood  hurriedly  put  himself  between  Sir  Batty  and 
the  imperturbable  Hercules. 

"Wait,  wait,"  he  cried,  and  then  addressing  Hercules 
questioned  him.  "Are  you  a  gentleman?" 

"I  neither  know  nor  care,"  said  Hercules  tranquilly,  "for 
what  you  may  mean  by  the  term,  but  for  me  my  gentility 
dates  from  the  days  when  I  served  lieutenant  to  Francis 
Drake." 

"The  fellow  is  a  buccaneer,"  cried  Sellars ;  "but  none  the 
less  he  shall  pay  for  his  insolence.  So  have  at  him,  one 
and  all." 

He  made  to  push  Winwood  aside  as  he  spoke.  Winwood 
wavered  and  put  his  hand  to  his  sword  hilt.  Willoughby, 
who  had  by  now  picked  up  his  hat,  shook  his  head. 

"Nay,"  he  protested,  "I  will  have  no  share  in  a  three  to 
one  scrimmage.  Man  to  man  I'll  fight  any  fellow,  but  no 
mobbing  for  me." 

Hercules  yielded  him  a  little  nod  of  approval. 

"You  are  the  best  of  your  bunch,"  he  declared.  "But 
it  is  all  one  to  me  how  we  settle  our  little  difference.  Come 
one  at  a  time  or  all  together,  I  care  not." 

"Come,  Winwood,"  cried  Sellars,  "let  us  take  the  brag- 
gart at  his  word  and  charge  him  in  company." 

Winwood,  accustomed  to  the  dominion  of  Sir  Batty, 
slowly  drew  his  sword,  but  here  the  latent  honesty  of  Mr. 
Willoughby  revolted. 

"I  tell  you,"  he  cried,  "that  if  you  do  I  will  fight  on  the 
other  side,  for  all  you  are  my  friends  and  this  fellow  has 
unbonneted  me." 

He  moved  as  he  spoke  to  take  a  place  by  the  side  of 
Hercules  and  as  he  moved  he  drew  his  sword.  Hercules 
smiled  approvingly  upon  him. 

"You  seem  a  meritable  fellow  of  a  fashion,"  he  said, 
"and  it  is  a  pity  you  keep  such  ugly  company.  But  while 
I  am  grateful  for  your  offer  of  alliance  I  cannot  accept  it, 


HERCULES  TELLS  A  TALE  167 

and  I  must  beg  of  you  not  to  hinder  but  rather  to  en- 
courage these  gentlemen  in  their  intention  of  double  attack, 
as  I  should  like  to  show  you  and  them  a  little  sword- 
play." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Winwood  had  regained  his  familiar 
coolness,  and  took  over  the  arrangement  of  the  quarrel. 

"Sir  Batty,"  he  said,  "and  you,  Master  Flood,  I  must 
entreat  your  patience.  An  orchard  in  a  lady's  neighbour- 
hood is  no  place  for  a  battle.  The  noise  of  our  brawling 
might  very  well  bring  her  to  the  scene,  and,  by  my  faith, 
we  cannot  slit  one  another's  weasands  under  her  nose.  I 
confess,  Master  Flood,  that  you  have  had  some  cause  to  take 
offence,  and  I,  for  one,  am  ready  to  tend  you  the  familiar 
reparation  if  you  can  but  assure  me  that  you  have  gentility 
enough  to  cross  swords  withal." 

"As  to  that,"  replied  Hercules  calmly,  "I  can  give  you 
no  better  satisfaction.  England  was  my  mother  and  the 
sea  my  foster-mother.  As  for  my  father  I  cannot  give  you 
his  name,  but  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  a  proper 
man  of  his  hands,  and  I  thank  him  for  a  good  measure  of 
inches.  Let  me,  however,  suggest  that  if  you  do  not  find 
me  gentleman  enough  to  cross  swords  with,  you  should 
not  have  found  me  gentleman  enough  to  affront.  But  if  you 
stickle  for  the  gentility  of  your  blades,  I  am  ready  to  de- 
fend my  honour  in  honest  country  fashion  with  my  naked 
fists  or  with  a  sound  crab-tree  cudgel,  whenever  and  wher- 
ever it  may  please  your  dignities  to  appoint." 

Mr.  Willoughby's  jolly  face  brightened  at  this  proposal, 
for  he  was  pretty  nimble  with  his  fists  and  was  accounted 
as  good  a  cudgel-player  as  any  man  in  the  West  Country. 
He  was  not,  indeed,  anything  like  so  big  a  man  as  Hercules, 
but  he  was  big  enough  and  well-knit,  and  he  had  not  lived 
the  town  life  long  enough  to  put  him  out  of  condition.  To 
Sir  Batty  the  suggested  arrangement  wore  a  very  different 
aspect.  He  was  one  of  the  most  famous  fencers  in  Lon- 
don ;  his  name  was  cited  with  admiration  in  all  the  schools ; 
and  he  prided  himself  on  his  command  of  his  weapon.  But 
in  a  bout  of  fisticuffs  or  a  clatter  of  sticks  he  knew  very 
well  that  he  could  only  cut  a  ridiculous  figure,  and  to 
be  ridiculous  were,  indeed,  a  dreadful  fate  for  Batty 
Sellars. 


168  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Mr.  Winwood  gravely  acknowledged  the  kernel  of  jus- 
tice in  the  words  of  Hercules,  and  taking  Sir  Batty  by  the 
arm,  drew  him  a  little  on  one  side. 

"What  this  fellow  urges,"  he  said,  "has  both  shrewd- 
ness in  it  and  reason.  We  have  unquestionably  given  him 
cause  for  offence  and  if  we  refuse  to  accord  him  the  repara- 
tion usual  among  gentlefolk  on  the  ground  that  he  lacks 
gentility,  we  cannot,  with  any  great  show  of  courage,  deny 
his  appeal  to  ruder  weapons.  Now  I  have  it  in  my  mind 
that  none  of  us,  save  Jack  Willoughby  yonder,  would  play 
much  of  a  hand  with  those  same  weapons." 

Sir  Batty,  who  was  already  at  one  with  his  friend  in 
this  conclusion,  nodded  assent.  He  had  decided  to  waive 
any  opposition  to  crossing  swords  with  this  sea-captain. 
For  though  he  was  by  this  time  in  cool  blood  again  and 
carried  himself  with  his  usual  courtly  composure,  he  was 
within  afire  with  rage  at  the  tweaking  of  his  beard  and  he 
calculated  with  infinite  satisfaction  upon  the  near  prospect 
of  running  the  tall  fellow  through  the  body. 

He  therefore  agreed  very  readily  to  Mr.  Winwood's 
proposition,  and  that  gentleman,  after  exchanging  a  few 
words  with  Mr.  Willoughby,  who  declared  himself  ready 
for  any  course  of  action  as  long  as  it  were  man  to  man, 
returned  to  where  Hercules  stood  and  leaned  upon  his 
crook  like  some  gigantic  Tityrus. 

"Master  Flood,"  he  said  courteously,  "my  friends  and 
I  are  agreed  that  you  are  in  the  right  of  it  and  we  are 
therefore  fully  prepared  to  offer  you  the  honourable  amends 
you  require.  As  to  the  time  and  place  we  are  very  much 
at  your  disposal,  but  I  believe  you  will  agree  that  we  had 
better  let  this  day  be  out  of  our  reckoning." 

"I  am  heartily  of  your  opinion,"  Hercules  replied.  "As 
for  the  time,  how  say  you  to  to-morrow  morn  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  ten  of  the  clock." 

Mr.  Winwood  replied  on  behalf  of  himself  and  his 
friends,  that  such  an  hour  would  suit  them  to  a  nicety,  and 
renewed  his  interrogation  as  to  the  place. 

"There  are  plenty  of  comfortable  places  for  such  pleas- 
urings  hereabouts,"  answered  Hercules,  "but  I  know  of 
none  better  than  Hazel  Hollow,  for  it  lies  about  midway 
between  here  and  Willoughby  Homing,  and  so  will  be  of 


HERCULES  TELLS  A  TALE  169 

equal  access  to  all  of  us.  Mr.  Willoughby,  I  make  no  doubt, 
knows  the  spot  well." 

Mr.  Willoughby,  on  being  appealed  to  by  Winwood,  con- 
firmed this  assumption.  He  knew  all  Devon  and  Cornwall 
too,  he  asserted,  like  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"Then  that  is  all  settled,"  Hercules  said,  contentedly,  "and 
nothing  remains  for  me  but  to  wish  you  good-day  and  good 
appetite.  Pray  lay  my  respects  at  the  feet  of  Mistress  Con- 
stant and  assure  her  that  I  find  that  playing  at  shepherds 
yields  very  good  sport." 

"Will  you  not  come  with  us,"  suggested  Mr.  Winwood, 
"that  by  your  presence  the  lady  may  be  assured  that  there 
has  been  no  quarrel?" 

"By  your  leave,  no,"  replied  Hercules.  "I  have  come  to 
the  term  of  my  visit  and  there  is  a  busy  day  before  me.  I 
leave  it  to  your  assurances  to  pacify  any  qualms  the  lady 
may  entertain." 

He  picked  up  his  hat  from  the  bench  and  then,  taking 
the  garland  from  his  head,  carefully  ringed  it  around  the 
crown  of  the  hat.  He  saluted  each  of  the  gentlemen  in 
turn,  clapped  the  hat  jauntily  on  his  head  and,  with  his 
crook  over  his  shoulder,  strolled  leisurely  to  the  little  gate 
and  passed  through  it,  locking  it  behind  him. 

The  three  gentlemen  watched  him  in  silence  until  he  was 
out  of  sight,  even  until  they  heard  the  galloping  of  his 
horse. 

"There  goes  a  proper  man,"  said  Jack  Willoughby.  "I 
could  be  friends  with  that  fellow." 

"He  carries  himself  like  a  gentleman,"  said  Mr.  Win- 
wood,  "whatever  his  birth  may  be." 

"What  measure  of  height  would  you  give  him?"  asked 
Sir  Batty. 

Mr.  Winwood  suggested  some  six  feet.  Mr.  Willoughby, 
more  precisely,  was  positive  for  six  foot  two.  Sir  Batty 
paced  a  length  of  some  seven  feet  along  the  grass.  "That 
would  be  about  it,"  he  said  with  a  sinister  smile. 

Then  the  three  gentlemen  went  in  to  the  repast  that 
awaited  them. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AN   APOLOGY   FOR   POETRY 

HERCULES  FLOOD  took  the  saddle  and  the  road  with 
as  cheerful  a  countenance  as  if  he  were  riding  to  or 
from  the  best  feast  in  the  world.  He  assured  himself,  and 
rightly  assured  himself,  that  his  temper  was  serene,  that 
his  judgment  was  unruffled,  that  he  was  still  the  same 
Hercules  Flood  who  had  awoke  from  the  dreamless  sleep 
of  the  healthy  and  vigorous  man  that  same  morning.  But 
— yes,  there  was  a  but,  beginning  a  mental  sentence  that 
ran  somewhat  thus.  But  there  was  a  sense  of  soreness  in 
his  mind  as  there  might  be  a  sense  of  soreness  in  his  body, 
if  he  had  taken  a  toss  from  his  horse  and  had  scrambled 
to  his  feet  to  find  himself  sound  in  wind  and  limb,  with 
never  a  strain  or  sprain  or  break  anywhere,  but  withal  a 
sense  of  physical  discomfort,  a  bruised  consciousness  of 
the  toss.  He  was  no  whit  a  worse  man  than  he  was  before 
the  misadventure,  but  the  misadventure  had  happened  and 
he  was  aware  of  it.  So  he  did  an  unwonted  deal  of  think- 
ing as  he  rode,  and  as  his  horse's  hooves  clattered  over  the 
earliest  cobbles  of  Plymouth  town  it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  arrived  at  a  pretty  definite  decision  as  to  his  in- 
tentions. 

He  alighted  at  the  "Dolphin"  and  delivered  his  horse  to 
an  ostler's  charge.  He  waited  to  see  that  the  animal  was 
properly  tended  and  fed  before  he  ascended  to  his  lodgings 
and  placed  his  crook  and  chaplet  in  a  corner.  Then  he 
quitted  the  inn,  after  leaving  word  that  Griffith,  who  was 
abroad  at  the  moment,  should  on  his  return  await  his  cap- 
tain at  the  hostelry.  He  proceeded  on  foot  at  a  brisk  pace 
along  the  Hoe  till  he  came  to  the  street  wherein  Philemon 
Minster  dwelt. 

He  had  not  seen  much  of  Philemon  of  late  days.  He  had 
told  his  friends,  at  the  beginning  of  his  adventure,  that  he 
170 


AN  APOLOGY  FOR  POETRY  171 

had  found  a  temporary  tenant  for  "The  Golden  Hart"  and 
that  he  intended  for  the  time  to  take  up  his  residence  at 
the  "Dolphin."  He  did  not  deliver  the  name  or  the  sex  of 
the  tenant  and  Philemon  forbore  to  question,  knowing  of 
old  that  it  was  the  way  of  Hercules  to  tell  what  he  wished 
to  tell  and  no  more.  Of  course  it  soon  came  to  Philemon's 
ears,  for  such  gossip  blows  briskly  about  a  little  town,  that 
the  new  tenant  of  "The  Golden  Hart"  was  none  other  than 
the  fair  lady  that  had  been  visiting  Lady  Gylford,  and  he 
heard  too,  though  not  from  Hercules,  that  his  friend's  horse 
often  travelled  the,  road  to  the  land-ship.  If  Philemon  felt 
something  like  a  pinch  of  the  heart  as  he  heard  the  news, 
if  he  found  himself  a  little  envious  of  his  friend's  good 
fortune,  he  showed  no  sign  of  hurt  or  envy.  It  were  folly, 
he  told  himself,  to  fret  over  the  face  of  a  girl  seen  once  and 
once  only.  But  the  event  pushed  him  back  into  one  of  his 
Puritan  moods,  and  he  avoided  the  "Dolphin"  for  a  while 
and  abjured  sack  and  derived,  or  believed  he  derived,  much 
cheer  from  the  study  of  the  Neo-Platonism  of  Plotinus. 

Hercules  came  to  a  halt  before  the  door  with  the  carven 
portal,  and  finding  it,  as  usual,  ajar,  climbed  the  stairs  and 
without  ceremony  pushed  open  the  door  of  his  friend's 
study.  Philemon  was  huddled  in  a  chair,  with  his  nose  be- 
tween the  pages  of  a  little  paper  book,  but  his  eyes  were 
not  so  occupied  that  his  ears  did  not  hear  the  entry.  He 
swung  his  slender  body  round  in  his  seat  and,  when  he 
saw  that  the  intruder  was  Hercules,  he  rose  to  his  feet  with 
a  cry  of  joy. 

"Hercules,"  he  cried,  before  Master  Flood  could  utter 
a  word,  "you  are  the  very  man  I  have  been  longing  to  see. 
Indeed  I  should  have  absolved  myself  of  a  vow  of  absti- 
nence and  sought  you  at  the  'Dolphin'  this  afternoon,  for 
I  have  a  treasure  to  bestow  upon  you,  my  friend." 

And  as  Philemon  spoke  he  waved  triumphantly  the  little 
paper  book  in  which  he  had  been  reading.  Hercules  gaped 
at  him  with  a  questioning  astonishment. 

"Here  is  wit,  here  is  wisdom,"  continued  Philemon.  "I 
have  read  it  once.  I  have  read  it  twice;  I  am  even  here 
at  the  third  time.  And  now  it  is  for  you,  and  I  hope  it  will 
tickle  your  spirits  as  it  has  tickled  mine.  Take  and  re- 
joice." 


172  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

As  he  spoke  he  pressed  the  little  paper  book  with  en- 
thusiasm into  the  unenthusiastic  fingers  of  his  friend. 
Hercules,  without  so  much  as  glancing  at  the  gift,  thrust 
it  into  a  pocket. 

"It  is  not  the  poet  Philemon  that  I  visit  to-day,"  he 
said,  "but  the  man  Philemon  that  can  handle  a  sword  as 
well  as  a  pen.  In  a  word  I  am  come  to  solicit  your  com- 
pany to-morrow  morning  for  a  very  pleasant,  lively  and 
most  unphilosophical  disputation  in  the  thick  of  the  woods." 

Philemon's  face,  which  had  darkened  a  little  at  the  un- 
ceremonious reception  which  Hercules  had  given  to  his 
present,  by  which  he  evidently  set  much  store,  brightened 
again. 

"Here  is  a  good  hearing,"  he  said.  "Tell  me  all  about 
the  matter." 

"Nay,"  replied  Hercules,  "I  cannot  tell  you  all  about 
the  matter,  but  I  can  deliver  you  the  pith  of  it.  I  have  per- 
suaded three  pretty  gentlemen  to  a  parley  to-morrow  morn, 
wherein  there  is  a  likelihood  that  some  scratches  may  be 
given  and  taken." 

Philemon's  face  reddened  with  pleasure  and  he  asked 
eagerly  for  an  account  of  the  matter. 

"As  to  that,"  replied  Hercules,  "there  is  really  very  little 
to  tell.  I  chanced  to  make  the  acquaintance  to-day  of  a  trine 
of  gentlemen.  Somehow  or  other,  it  is  of  little  concern  how, 
we  fell  out.  One  word  brought  on  another  word,  till  in 
the  end  there  was  no  help  for  it  but  we  must  unravel  the 
tangle  with  the  points  of  our  knitting-needles.  Wherefore 
I  have  come  to  bid  you  to  the  play." 

Philemon  saw  very  plainly  that  the  account  his  friend 
gave  of  the  quarrel  was  very  far  from  being  the  true  pic- 
ture. But  also  he  knew  very  well  that  it  was  the  only 
picture  Hercules  intended  to  present,  and  that  he  should 
get  no  other.  So  he  took  the  tale  with  a  grave  face,  ex- 
pressed his  delighted  readiness  to  attend  on  the  adventure, 
and  cocked  his  eye  at  a  long  rapier  that  hung  against  the 
wall.  Hercules  was  for  taking  his  leave  and  had  got  as 
far  as  the  door,  when  he  suddenly  turned  on  his  heel  and 
came  back  to  his  friend. 

"By  the  by,"  he  questioned,  "did  you  ever  hear  tell  of  a 
book  that  is  called  'Arcadia'  ?" 


AN  APOLOGY  FOR  POETRY  173 

Philemon  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed  mer- 
rily. 

"For  very  sure  I  did,"  he  answered.  "It  is  a  brave  book 
and  a  fair  book  and  a  gay  book,  and  I  love  it  dearly.  I 
know  many  and  many  of  a  page  of  it  by  heart,  which  I  shall 
be  pleased  to  deliver  to  you  if  you  care  to  hear  them" — here 
Philemon  paused  for  a  moment  to  enjoy  the  wry  face  which 
Hercules  made  at  the  proposal — "or  I  will  lend  you  the 
book  itself  if  you  choose/' 

Hercules  shook  his  head  with  a  very  tightened  expression 
of  refusal  about  his  mouth. 

"I  will  not  so  far  trouble  you,"  he  said,  "though  I  thank 
you  kindly,  none  the  less,  but  I  have  little  leisure  for  book- 
learning,  and  if  one  of  my  gentlemen  were  to  spit  me  to- 
morrow it  would  be  a  thousand  pities  to  waste  so  much 
time.  But  it  amazes  me  much  that  good  Sir  Philip,  whom 
I  have  ever  found  it  allowed  on  all  hands  to  be  a  fine 
soldier,  could  have  found  time  for  such  trifles." 

Philemon  coloured  again,  but  this  time  with  as  much 
vexation  as  he  could  ever  bring  himself  to  where  Hercules 
was  concerned. 

"I  would  you  were  not  such  a  Goth,  dear  giant,"  he 
protested.  "What  you  are  pleased  to  call  trifles  are  to  me 
the  very  quintessence  of  delight.  But  what  I  think  of  such 
things  calls  for  little  consideration.  Let  a  better  man 
appraise  them.  Let  Philip  Sidney  defend  himself." 

He  picked  out  a  book  from  a  row  of  volumes  on  a  shelf 
near  his  hand  and  flung  it  to  Hercules,  who  caught  it  in 
the  air  and  looked  at  it  with  some  curiosity. 

"  'An  Apology  for  Poetry,'  "  he  read  aloud,  "  'Written 
by  the  Right  noble,  virtuous  and  learned  Sir  Philip  Sidney, 
Knight.' "  He  looked  at  Philemon  quizzically.  "At  least 
he  makes  but  a  small  apology,  which  is  so  much  to  the 
good."  He  opened  the  book  carelessly  and  cast  a  glance 
at  random  over  the  first  page,  and  as  he  did  so  his  visage 
brightened.  "Now  truly  here  is  something  to  the  purpose 
and  well  worth  saying."  Here  he  read  aloud :  "  'He  said 
soldiers  were  the  noblest  estate  of  mankind,  and  horsemen 
the  noblest  of  soldiers.'  Now  that  is  very  good  as  far  as 
it  goes,  though  for  my  own  part  I  would  write  sailors  for 
soldiers  and  name  the  master-mariners  as  the  noblest  of 


174  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

the  kind.  Still  it  is  pretty  good  as  it  stands  and  may  go 
far  to  pardon  Arcadia." 

Philemon,  who  had  been  moving  restlessly  in  his  chair, 
vainly  seeking  an  opportunity  to  speak,  now  seized  his 
chance. 

"Excellent  Vandal,"  he  cried,  "do  not  pick  lines  at 
random  and  proffer  them  for  Sidney's  wit.  If  you  will 
look  closer  you  will  find  that  those  words  which  so  please 
you  were  uttered  by  Messer  Pugliano  that  was  a  Master 
of  the  Horse  to  the  Emperor." 

"He  was  a  very  sensible  fellow,"  said  Hercules,  "and 
the  Emperor  was  well  served  by  such  a  man.  You  would 
not,  I  hope,  have  me  believe  that  Sir  Philip  was  of  another 
opinion  ?" 

"Sir  Philip,"  said  Philemon,  with  a  weary  smile,  "pro- 
ceeds to  make  a  defence  of  an  art  which  was  very  dear  to 
him,  namely  the  divine  art  of  poetry,  as  it  has  been  prac- 
tised from  the  earliest  times  to  the  great  solace,  uplifting 
and  entertainment  of  mankind." 

"It  has  never  solaced,  uplifted  or  entertained  me," 
Hercules  rejoined,  "and  I  pray  you,  most  dear  Philemon, 
that  we  say  no  more  about  it.  I  will  call  for  you  to- 
morrow with  a  commendable  nag  at  an  early  hour.  Till 
then,  farewell." 

He  was  out  of  the  room  and  rattling  down  the  stairs 
well  nigh  before  the  last  word  had  fallen  from  his  mouth. 
It  was  pretty  plain  that  he  feared  lest  his  scholarly  friend 
should  persist  in  prolonging  the  argument  concerning  poetry. 
Philemon  ran  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  called  after 
him  not  to  forget  the  little  book  which  he  had  placed  in 
his  pocket.  But  Hercules  was  in  the  street  by  this  time 
and  making  off  at  a  great  rate,  and  the  words  of  Philemon 
were  wasted  upon  indifferent  air. 

Hercules  made  the  straight  way  to  the  "Dolphin,"  where 
he  found  Griffith  awaiting  him  over  a  tankard  of  the 
strongest  ale  that  its  spigots  could  yield.  Instantly  a  fellow 
tankard  found  its  way  to  the  table,  and  over  its  humming 
liquor  the  two  friends  put  their  heads  together.  Hercules 
was  fluent  with  instructions  to  his  companion,  instructions 
that,  it  would  seem,  varied  according  to  possible  contin- 
gencies. Griffith  were  to  do  thus  if  such  a  thing  happened, 


AN  APOLOGY  FOR  POETRY  175 

and  this  if  the  happening  were  different.  The  Welshman 
listened  with  a  solemn  face  to  his  chief's  commands,  sucking 
the  while  gravely  at  a  pipe  of  clay.  When  Hercules  had 
delivered  his  wishes  Griffith  nodded  his  head  portentously 
to  signify  that  he  understood  exactly  what  Hercules  would 
have  him  do  under  each  and  all  of  the  possible  circum- 
stances suggested  to  him.  Then  he  finished  his  pipe  and  his 
mug  and  quitted  his  quarters  to  put  the  various  orders  of 
Hercules  in  train. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

WAGER  OF  BATTLE 

EARLY  the  following  morning  Hercules  Flood  was 
cantering  on  a  giant  steed  across  the  country  to  the 
place  of  meeting,  with  Philemon  Minster  and  Griffith  rid- 
ing on  either  side  of  him.  Philemon  was  a  good  rider  in 
spite  of  his  infirmity,  which  he  had  but  to  shorten  a  stirrup 
to  counteract.  But  Griffith,  though  he  clung  like  a  burr 
to  his  steed  with  the  grip  of  his  powerful  legs,  was  very 
patently  the  sailor  on  horseback  over  whom  popular  humour 
has  always  been  pleased  to  make  merry.  He  rolled  and 
lurched  a  good  deal  in  his  saddle;  he  bobbed  a  good  deal 
over  the  animal's  neck,  and  the  expression  on  his  swarthy 
countenance,  enforced  by  the  imprecations  that  were  from 
time  to  time  jolted  from  his  lips,  made  it  very  plain  that 
the  sturdy  Welshman  was  far  from  enjoying  himself. 

The  anger  of  Griffith  did  not  afford  a  more  marked  con- 
trast to  the  habitual  composure  of  Hercules  than  did  the 
bearing  of  Philemon  Minster.  He  was  in  the  top  of  high 
spirits,  cracking  jests,  singing  snatches  of  song,  talking  in- 
cessantly with  an  exuberance  of  gaiety. 

Excitement  always  played  upon  his  delicate  and  febrile 
nature  as  the  breeze  plays  upon  a  wind-harp,  moving  it 
either  to  an  extravagance  of  mirth  or  an  extravagance  of 
melancholy.  For  weeks  he  had  been  Puritan,  austere, 
isolated,  deep  in  his  books,  denying  himself  wine  and  com- 
pany, striving  to  shut  from  his  mind  the  loveliness  whose 
fleeting  vision  he  had  tried  to  imprint  on  paper.  Now  he 
seemed  to  have  swung  into  the  flood-tide  of  rapture  again,  to 
be  alive  and  alert  and  cheerful,  merry  with  the  wine  of  life, 
ready  to  be  merry  with  the  wine  of  the  vine.  He  felt  like 
some  king's  son  that  has  been  thrust  out  of  his  kingdom 
and  rides  at  all  adventure  to  better  his  fortunes.  He  was 
as  one  that  having  lost  much  has  little  left  to  lose  and  is 
176 


WAGER  OF  BATTLE  177 

ready  to  stake  that  little  with  a  light  heart  on  any  cast  of 
the  dice.  Let  Hercules  prove  the  man ;  at  least,  so  Philemon 
assured  himself,  he,  Philemon,  would  prove  the  careless 
man. 

Had  Philemon  but  known  it,  Hercules  was  far  from 
harbouring  a  happy  mood  that  morning.  He  was  forced 
to  admit  to  himself  that  he  had  been  hoodwinked,  to  put 
it  pleasantly ;  that  he  had  been  fooled,  to  put  it  less  pleas- 
antly. And  though  he  was  never  one  to  make  a  fuss  over 
petty  discomfitures,  this  rebuff  was  in  the  nature  of  a 
major  ill  and  he  felt  that  his  scheme  of  things  needed 
reordering.  And  already  he  was  doing  his  best  towards  the 
readjustment. 

Hercules  had  arranged,  with  his  customary  forethought, 
that  one  of  his  men  should  be  at  the  place  of  meeting  be- 
fore the  appointed  hour  in  charge  of  a  horse  and  cart. 
"One  may  ride  or  walk  to  a  match,"  he  said  to  Philemon, 
"but  one  never  knows  how  one  may  travel  back  again." 
And  when  Philemon  retorted  with  confidence  in  his  friend's 
skill  of  fence  Hercules  had  shaken  his  head. 

"The  best  sworder  in  the  world — or  rather  he  that  counts 
himself  or  is  accounted  the  best — may  meet  a  better.  For 
his  weapon  may  break  at  close  quarters,  or  he  may  get 
the  sun  in  his  eyes,  or  his  foot  may  slip  or  his  confidence 
may  betray  him  into  carelessness — a  thousand  things  may 
happen  to  spoil  his  game.  For  my  part  I  always  assume 
in  any  encounter  that  my  opponent  is  like  to  prove  the 
better  man  until  I  am  assured  to  the  contrary." 

"You  talk  as  if  you  were  the  most  cautious  man  in  the 
world,"  said  Philemon  and  laughed,  but  Hercules  accepted 
the  words  quite  gravely. 

"I  hope  I  always  act  as  if  I  were  the  most  cautious  man 
in  the  world,"  he  said.  "I  have  seen  more  than  one  good 
fight  lost  for  want  of  caution — want  of  caution  in  the  set- 
ting about  I  mean,  for  you  have  other  things  to  think  about 
when  you  are  in  the  thick  of  it." 

As  Hercules  and  his  companions  approached  the  meeting- 
place  they  descried  in  the  near  distance  three  cavaliers  who 
were  riding  rapidly  towards  them. 

"Good,"  cried  Hercules,  slapping  an  applauding  hand 
on  the  horn  of  his  saddle,  "our  covey  keeps  time  very  com- 


178  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

mendably.  With  any  luck  we  should  be  done  with  the 
business  inside  the  hour." 

"Behold,"  said  Philemon,  "they  have  made  no  provi- 
sion against  ill-luck." 

"So  much  the  unwiser  they,"  said  Hercules,  "it  is  only 
your  fool  who  thinks  he  carries  victory  buttoned  in  his 
pouch." 

The  three  drew  bridle  by  the  side  of  Hercules'  cart, 
which  they  found  duly  awaiting  them,  and  confided  their 
animals  to  the  care  of  its  driver  who  tethered  them  to  the 
tail-board.  Then  they  walked  slowly  into  the  clearing  that 
was  to  serve  for  their  theatre.  As  they  did  so  the  gentle- 
men from  Willoughby  Homing  had  dismounted  and,  after 
fastening  their  horses  to  convenient  trees,  proceeded  in 
their  turn  over  the  turf  till  the  two  parties  faced  each 
other. 

Hercules  and  Sir  Batty  detached  themselves  from  their 
companions  and  gravely  saluted  one  another.  Hercules 
indicated  his  friends  with  a  sweep  of  his  arm. 

"These  gentlemen  have  consented  to  act  as  my  seconds," 
he  said.  "Allow  me  to  present  to  you  Master  Philemon 
Minster  of  Plymouth,  and  Master  Griffith  ap-Owen  of 
Cardiff  in  particular,  and  everywhere  in  general,  but  latest 
from  the  dry  Tortugas." 

All  the  persons  saluted  each  other  very  formally. 

Sir  Batty  addressed  himself  to  Philemon  with  a  great 
air  of  urbanity. 

"Are  you,"  he  asked,  "by  chance  of  kin  to  the  Minsters 
of  Colchester?" 

Philemon  bowed. 

"Sir  Charlton  is  my  first  cousin,"  he  replied,  and  Sir 
Batty  nodded  approval. 

"I  have  the  happiness  to  be  acquainted  with  your  cousin," 
he  said  affably ;  then  turning  to  his  companions  he  presented 
Philemon  to  each  of  them  in  turn.  Thereafter  he  addressed 
himself  to  Griffith. 

"Have  I  the  good  fortune,"  he  asked,  "to  possess  any 
knowledge  of  any  of  your  family?" 

"I  cannot  tell  you  for  sure,"  replied  Griffith  dourly,  "for 
it  is  many  a  long  day  since  I  have  come  across  any  of  my 
kin,  but  as  I  remember,  they  were  mighty  particular  in  the 


WAGER  OF  BATTLE  179 

making  of  friends.  My  father,  Heaven  bless  him,  received 
the  honour  of  knighthood  from  her  Majesty  long  since, 
but  set  no  great  store  by  the  dignity,  seeing  that  he  was 
himself  directly  descended  from  Peredur,  that  was  King 
of  Wales  in  the  days  of  Uther  Pendragon." 

Sir  Batty  did  not  permit  himself  the  shadow  of  a  smile 
at  this  magnificent  pedigree.  Nor  did  he  think  it  impera- 
tive to  raise  any  question  of  the  genealogy.  Having  con- 
sented to  accept  Hercules  as  a  foe  to  cross  swords  withal — 
and  at  the  cost  of  precision  he  was  very  glad  to  have  ac- 
cepted him — it  did  not  seem  worth  while  to  make  any  dif- 
ficulty as  to  the  friends  that  he  might  choose  to  bring  into 
the  field.  Wherefore  he  presented  Griffith  ap-Owen  to  his 
own  companions  with  as  much  gravity  as  if  he  were  able 
of  his  own  knowledge  to  endorse  his  aristocracy,  and  pre- 
sented them  in  turn  to  the  Welshman  who  doggedly  re- 
fused to  be  softened  in  the  least  by  Sir  Batty 's  urbanity. 

When  these  preliminaries  had  been  satisfactorily  accom- 
plished, Sir  Batty  cast  a  critical  glance  upon  the  massy 
bulk  of  Hercules  and  decided  to  a  nicety  the  precise  point 
at  which  he  would  deliver  him  a  fatal  thrust  through  the 
body — for  Sir  Batty  was  not  squeamish  when  he  was  irri- 
tated, and  human  life,  always  excepting  his  own,  was  of 
little  value  in  his  philosophy.  Then  he  surveyed  the  space 
of  earth  where  they  were  standing,  and  swiftly  decided 
upon  the  precise  spot  where  he  would  give  his  enemy  his 
death-blow.  Sir  Batty  hated  Hercules  with  all  the  energy 
of  his  being.  He  had  affronted  a  stronger  man  than  him- 
self and  had  been  tweaked  by  the  beard  for  his  insolence. 
That  was  bad.  What  was  worse  was  the  thought  that  this 
strong  fellow  desired  Clarenda. 

"Sirs,"  said  Sir  Batty,  who  took  upon  himself  as  by 
right  of  recognised  Court  officialdom  the  arbitration  of  the 
encounter,  "we  have  here  a  very  pretty  quarrel,  a  very 
pretty  place  of  meeting,  and  very  pretty  company  for  the 
business.  As  I  understand  the  matter  Master  Flood  has 
challenged  me  and  both  my  friends  and  I  and  both  my 
friends  have  accepted  his  challenge.  The  point  to  be  de- 
cided by  the  laws  of  chivalry  is,  which  of  us  has  the  prior 
claim  upon  Master  Flood's  person,  if  and  when  Master 
Flood  is  prepared  to  renew  his  defiance." 


i8o  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Hercules  listened  to  this  little  oration  with  a  face  as  ex- 
pressionless as  a  wall.  Griffith  only  glowered.  There  were 
many  things  that  he  would  like  to  say,  but  nothing  that  it 
seemed  polite  to  say.  Only  Philemon  spoke.  He  moved 
a  little  forward,  concealing  his  infirmity  as  well  as  he  could 
and  addressed  himself  to  Sir  Batty.  He  spoke  as  if  of 
his  own  proper  motion,  but  what  he  said  had  been  arranged 
by  Hercules. 

"Here  in  England,"  said  Philemon  in  his  measured, 
pleasant  voice,  "we  are  not  very  much  given  to  settling 
disputes  at  the  point  of  the  sword,  partly  it  may  be  because 
we  have  generally  some  better  use  for  our  weapons  than 
slitting  one  another's  throats  or  splitting  one  another's 
livers.  Wherefore  we  are  often  at  a  loss  how  to  carry  our- 
selves when  such  encounters  arise.  But  in  France,  where 
I  have  sojourned  a  good  while,  all  the  particulars  of  an 
encounter  are  tabulated  to  a  nicety,  and  one  of  their  customs 
is  that  where  a  gentleman  and  his  antagonist  come  into  the 
field,  each  accompanied  by  his  seconds,  it  is  the  usual  thing 
for  those  seconds  to  fall  to  on  their  own  account,  one  side 
with  the  other." 

As  Philemon  spoke  a  certain  gloom  and  sullenness  over- 
came the  countenances  of  the  gentlemen  from  Willoughby 
Homing,  each  of  whom  was  heartily  eager  to  settle  ac- 
counts with  Hercules.  But  the  sequent  speech  of  Philemon 
dissipated  the  cloud. 

"In  this  instance,  however,"  he  continued,  "my  friend 
and  principal,  Master  Hercules  Flood,  insists  upon  his 
right  to  take  each  of  you  gentlemen  in  turn,  which  un- 
fortunately deprives  my  friend  here" — he  indicated  the 
glowering  Griffith — "and  myself  from  having  the  active 
share  in  the  morning's  amusement  which  we  had  anticipated. 
Since,  however,  Master  Flood  is  obdurate  we  can  but  yield 
to  his  conditions.  The  only  question  now  remaining  for 
us  to  settle  is,  which  of  you  three  gentlemen  has  the  prior 
right  to  his  consideration." 

Here  Sir  Batty  was  about  to  assert  vehemently  the  urg- 
ency of  his  claim,  but  Philemon  with  a  graceful  elevated 
hand  restrained  him. 

"It  has  seemed  to  me,"  he  went  on,  "after  carefully 
weighing  the  matter,  that  it  would  be  difficult  indeed  to 


WAGER  OF  BATTLE  181 

decide  this  point.  While  I  need  not  recapitulate  the  vari- 
ous acts  of  Master  Flood  which  have  led  to  this  pleasant 
encounter" — here  the  three  gentlemen  from  Willoughby 
Homing  looked  very  angry — "I  think  I  may  go  so  far  as 
to  say  that  each  of  them  is  of  about  equal  gravity.  I 
therefore  beg  leave  to  propose  that  we  draw  lots  for  the 
first  encounter  with  Master  Flood." 

The  party  from  Willoughby  Homing  agreed  with  great 
promptness  to  Philemon's  proposal,  and  the  formality  of 
battle  being  thus  satisfactorily  arranged  the  next  question 
that  arose  was  as  to  the  method  of  giving  precedence.  Mr. 
Willoughby  characteristically  suggested  the  tossing  of  a 
coin.  Philemon  Minster,  student-like,  favoured  an  alpha- 
betical arrangement.  Sir  Batty  and  Mr.  Winwood,  who 
were  much  of  an  age,  urged  priority  of  years  as  a  prevail- 
ing claim.  Griffith  had  no  suggestion  to  make.  Hercules 
with  his  habitual  decision  settled  the  matter. 

"Let  us  settle  the  question,"  he  said,  "by  drawing  lots 
with  three  bits  of  paper  of  different  lengths." 

The  rest  of  the  company  looked  at  one  another  in  some 
perplexity. 

"Which  of  us  has  got  any  paper?"  Sir  Batty  asked.  Mr. 
Willoughby  was  about  to  suggest  broken  twigs  or  blades 
of  grass,  when  Hercules  answered  Sir  Batty's  question. 

"I  have,"  he  said,  and  plucked  from  his  doublet  the  little 
paper  book  which  Philemon  had  given  him  on  the  previous 
day  and  which  he  had  forgotten  all  about  until  that  in- 
stant. He  tore  off  its  entitling  cover  without  regarding  it, 
and  thrusting  the  leaves  of  the  pamphlet  back  into  his  bosom, 
tore  from  the  cover-page  three  strips  of  different  lengths. 
These  he  handed  to  Mr.  Willoughby,  begging  him  to  hold 
them  in  his  hand  while  Sir  Batty  and  Mr.  Winwood  draw  in 
turn.  The  result  of  the  draw  was  that  Mr.  Willoughby  re- 
tained the  longest  piece,  which  gave  him  the  first  right,  that 
Sir  Batty  came  next,  and  Spencer  Winwood  last. 

Philemon  and  Mr.  Winwood  performed  the  preliminary 
ceremonials  duly  expected  of  seconds.  They  examined  the 
rapiers  of  the  combatants,  studied  the  lay  of  the  ground 
and  arranged  the  positions  of  the  antagonists  so  that  they 
should,  at  the  start  at  least,  be  as  satisfactorily  placed  in 
the  matter  of  light  as  might  be.  When  all  this  was  settled 


i&2  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

they  drew  apart  as  did  Sir  Batty  and  Griffith  and  the  busi- 
ness of  the  morning  began. 

The  encounter  between  Hercules  and  Jack  Willoughby 
was  of  exceedingly  brief  duration.  It  was  plain  from  the 
beginning  that  however  much  or  little  of  the  art  of  the 
duello  Hercules  might  know,  Master  Willoughby  knew 
practically  nothing.  He  was  evidently  floundering,  as  he 
fought,  through  vague  memories  of  incomplete  lessons  ac- 
quired during  his  sojourn  in  London,  and  when  very  pres- 
ently Philemon  observed  a  widening  stain  of  red  upon  the 
breast  of  Master  Willoughby 's  shirt,  he  sprang  forward 
and  called  the  combatants  to  a  halt.  Master  Willoughby's 
wound  proved  upon  examination  to  be  no  more  than  a 
scratch.  The  point  of  the  sword  had  planted  upon  its 
mark  with  precision  enough  to  draw  blood  without  inflict- 
ing anything  that  could  be  seriously  called  an  injury. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Philemon,  "blood  has  been  drawn. 
The  quarrel  is  trivial.  Surely  honour  is  satisfied." 

Hercules  instantly  protested  that,  with  the  consent  of 
Master  Willoughby,  he  would  rather  choose  that  the  mat- 
ter went  no  further  and  Master  Willoughby  cordially  agree- 
ing the  score  between  this  pair  of  antagonists  was  declared 
to  be  wiped  clean.  Then  Sir  Batty,  after  asking  and  re- 
ceiving assurances  that  Hercules  was  not  in  the  least 
fatigued  by  this  preliminary  brush,  took  his  place  with 
great  precision  and  an  emotionless  face,  opposite  to  Her- 
cules. 

Hercules  had  entertained  some  considerable  measure  of 
curiosity  as  to  the  manner  in  which  Sir  Batty  would  con- 
duct his  attack  and  his  curiosity  was  not  long  left  unsatis- 
fied. During  all  the  prologue  of  negotiations  Sir  Batty  had 
carried  himself  with  a  fine  air  of  polite  indifference  and 
now  when  the  time  came  for  him  to  take  his  station  op- 
posite to  Hercules,  he  did  so  with  a  carriage  of  exceeding 
gravity  and  made  his  salute  with  a  slowness  and  precision 
which  argued  a  cool  and  methodical  player.  But  the  in- 
stant that  the  salute  was  completed,  Sir  Batty 's  manner 
changed  with  astonishing  swiftness  and  the  weapons  had 
barely  met  when  he  was  leaping  fiercely  at  his  antagonist, 
beating  at  his  blade  with  unexpected  strength  and  aiming 
a  vicious  lunge  at  his  breast. 


WAGER  OF  BATTLE  183 

If  Hercules  Flood  were  ever  a  man  to  be  taken  unawares 
that  shrewd  and  swift  assault  would  have  put  a  period  to 
his  career.  But  he  was  no  such  man.  He  had  learnt  from 
his  youth  to  be  wary  at  all  seasons,  and  this  habitual  wari- 
ness defended  him  easily  against  Sir  Batty's  attack.  Sir 
Batty  after  hammering  at  his  opponent's  blade  had  sought 
to  quit  it  too  rashly.  Expecting  to  find  one  inferior  to  him- 
self in  the  manage  of  the  rapier — a  very  justifiable  expecta- 
tion— he  had  acted  without  his  usual  prudence.  His  blade 
which  he  had  extended  in  the  confidence  that  he  was  about 
to  bury  it  in  his  enemy's  flesh,  found  itself  met  and  coun- 
tered by  a  binding  parry,  executed  by  Hercules,  who  in- 
stantly following  this  act  by  a  rapid  extension,  transfixed 
Sir  Batty's  right  arm  just  below  the  shoulder.  Sir  Batty's 
sword  dropped  on  the  grass  from  his  suddenly  unnerved 
fingers;  his  streaming  blood  soaked  his  shirt  with  crim- 
son ;  the  encounter  seemed  over  before  it  had  well  be- 
gun. 

But  Sir  Batty,  heedless  of  his  hurt,  stooped  nimbly  and 
picked  up  his  sword  with  his  left  hand;  then  fell  anew 
into  position. 

"I  am  trained  alike  in  both  hands,"  he  cried,  in  a  rage  of 
disappointment  that  even  his  self-command  could  not  con- 
ceal, "let  us  go  on  with  the  game." 

Hercules,  who  had  instantly  lowered  his  point  after  dis- 
abling his  adversary,  shook  his  head. 

"I  am  as  left-handed  as  you  please,"  he  said,  and  as  he 
spoke  he  shifted  his  rapier  rapidly  from  his  right  hand 
to  his  left,  and  made  such  motions  with  it  as  proved  his 
command,  "but  it  is  ill  fighting  with  a  running  wound,  and 
I  advise  you  to  make  an  end." 

Sir  Batty's  only  reply  to  this  counsel  was  to  make  an 
attack  upon  the  speaker  at  once  so  fierce  and  so  skilful  as 
to  justify  his  claim  to  left-handed  dexterity.  Hercules  felt 
himself  obliged  to  make  good  his  own  claim,  and  after  a 
few  seconds  of  give  and  -take  it  pleased  him  with  a  sudden 
bind  of  his  blade  to  nip  Sir  Batty's  sword  from  his  fingers 
and  jerk  it  to  a  distant  part  of  the  field. 

To  Sir  Batty,  paler  from  mortification  than  from  loss  of 
blood,  Hercules  spoke. 

"I  could  have  run  you  through  the  body  then,"  he  said, 


184  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"but  I  preferred  to  disarm  you.  Let  me  beg  you  to  make 
an  end  for  to-day,  seeing  that  you  are  so  heavily  handi- 
capped. If  it  so  please  you  we  can  renew  our  argument 
hereafter,  when  and  where  you  will.  But  for  the  time 
being  let  us  break  off." 

Sir  Batty  nodded  assent.  Indeed  it  were  useless  to  con- 
tradict or  to  attempt  to  continue  the  contest.  He  had  faced 
a  better  man  than  himself  and  had  been  worsted  in  a  con- 
flict where  he  had  counted  most  confidently  upon  victory. 
He  was  in  pain  both  physically  and  mentally  and  both  sen- 
sations were  unfamiliar  to  him  in  an  affair  of  arms  where 
hitherto  success  had  invariably  and  faithfully  attended  upon 
him.  He  was  silent  from  chagrin.  Hercules,  with  a  gesture, 
summoned  the  others. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "Sir  Batty  has  received  some- 
thing of  a  hurt  and  it  were  well  that  it  should  be  swiftly 
tended  and  that  he  should  be  conveyed,  as  speedily  as  may 
be,  to  Willoughby  Homing." 

The  words  of  Hercules  were  immediately  confirmed.  For 
even  in  that  instant  Sir  Batty  lost  grip  upon  himself, 
lurched  forward  and  would  have  fallen  to  the  ground  in  a 
swoon  if  Hercules,  who  had  kept  an  eye  upon  him,  had 
not  caught  him  in  his  fall. 

"It  is  nothing,"  said  Hercules  composedly  to  the  four 
who  gathered  about  him,  "I  know  enough  of  surgery  to 
handle  this  hurt." 

While  he  spoke  he  had  propped  the  senseless  Sir  Batty 
on  his  knee  and  ripping  the  wounded  man's  shirt  from 
wrist  to  shoulder  with  his  knife,  cut  away  the  severed 
linen  and  converted  it  very  nimbly  and  featly  into  a  ban- 
dage for  Sir  Batty's  injury,  while  the  others  watched  his 
efficiency  with  admiration.  When  he  had  done  he  lifted 
his  head  and  glanced  at  Philemon. 

"It  is  a  good  thing,"  he  said,  "that  we  brought  that  cart 
with  us.  It  would  be  no  pleasant  business  for  Sir  Batty 
to  ride  back  with  his  arm  in  this  pickle.  You,  Griffith,  and 
you,  Mr.  Willoughby,  take  the  gentleman  and  convey  him 
as  gingerly  as  you  may  to  the  waggon." 

While  the  pair  were  obeying  his  instructions  Hercules 
turned  to  Mr.  Winwood. 

"You  and  I,  sir,"  he  said,  "have  come  to  our  turn.    Is 


WAGER  OF  BATTLE  185 

it  your  wish  that  we  shall  play  it  out  or  shall  we  call  quits 
without  further  ado?" 

"I  am  at  your  service,"  said  Mr.  Winwood  politely.  He 
had  no  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  the  result  of  the  encounter 
after  what  he  had  seen  of  Hercules'  skill. 

"I  must  needs  inform  you,"  said  Hercules,  "that  I  have 
lived  not  a  little  in  France,  and  some  of  her  customs  seem 
good  to  me.  It  is  one  of  these  customs  that  in  a  combat 
of  this  nature  the  man  to  whom  it  has  pleased  Providence 
to  grant  a  win  has  the  right  to  demand  and  bear  away  his 
opponent's  sword  as  spoil  of  conflict.  This  is  a  right  I  wish 
to  claim  in  this  business." 

As  Hercules  spoke  he  walked  to  the  spot  where  his  wrist- 
play  had  jerked  Sir  Batty's  rapier  and  picking  up  the 
weapon  confided  it  to  Philemon  before  returning  to  Mr, 
Winwood. 

"I  am  aware  of  the  custom,"  said  Mr.  Winwood,  "but  if 
you  desire  to  enforce  it  I  must  do  my  best  to  retain  my 
weapon." 

As  he  spoke  he  fell  on  guard.  Hercules  with  his  sword 
still  lowered  addressed  him  again. 

"I  should  be  loth  to  think  that  you  came  to  grief  over 
so  paltry  a  quarrel,"  he  said.  "Will  you  therefore  agree 
that  if  I  plant  a  prick  plumb  in  the  middle  of  your  forehead 
you  will  consent  to  consider  yourself  as  worsted  without 
further  strife?" 

"I  agree  to  that,"  said  Mr.  Winwood  and  the  pair  crossed 
swords.  A  few  seconds  later  Mr.  Winwood  sprang  back- 
wards as  the  point  of  Hercules'  weapon  touched  him  on  the 
forehead,  just  between  the  brows.  The  touch  was  so  light 
that  the  skin  was  no  more  broken  than  if  it  had  been  as- 
sailed by  a  pin,  but  the  touch  had  been  there  and  had  made 
itself  known.  Mr.  Winwood  immediately  took  his  rapier 
by  the  blade  and  extended  the  hilt  to  Hercules. 

"You  have  won  the  game,"  he  said,  "and  here  are  the 
stakes." 

Hercules  took  the  sword  from  him  with  a  bow. 

"I  have  a  private  reason,"  he  said,  "for  pressing  this 
privilege,  as  a  proof,  elsewhere,  that  in  a  quarrel  which  I 
think  you  will  admit  was  forced  upon  me,  I  carried  myself 
with  honour." 


186  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Mr.  Winwood  bowed  his  head. 

"I  must  assure  you,  Master  Flood,  that  everything  in 
your  conduct  this  day  has  proved  you  to  be  a  most  honour- 
able and  admirable  foe.  Speaking  only  for  myself  I  tender 
you  my  regrets  for  such  share  as  I  had  in  seeming  to  offer 
you  any  discourtesy." 

The  two  men  saluted  gravely.  Mr.  Winwood  turned  and 
went  his  way  towards  the  cart,  whereon  by  this  time  Grif- 
fith and  Jack  Willoughby  had  installed  Sir  Batty  on  an 
extemporised  bed  of  riding-mantles. 

Here  Mr.  Willoughby,  on  the  demand  of  Hercules  and 
by  the  advice  of  Mr.  Winwood,  who  assured  him  of  the 
correctness  of  the  proceeding,  surrendered  his  sword.  Her- 
cules Flood  tucked  the  conquered  blades  under  his  arm 
and  walked  at  a  leisurely  pace,  whistling  softly,  to  the 
spot  where  the  horses  of  his  party  were  tethered  and 
waited  there  until  the  wain  which  his  forethought  had  pro- 
vided started  on  its  journey  to  Willoughby  Homing  with 
its  escort  of  Sir  Batty's  two  friends.  When  Philemon  and 
Griffith  rejoined  him,  he  swung  himself  lightly  into  the 
saddle  of  the  huge  horse  that  carried  him. 

"Friends,"  he  said,  "I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  help 
in  this  business  and  I  would  that  I  could  entertain  you 
presently  according  to  the  rules  of  the  game.  But  this 
must  be  for  the  moment  postponed  seeing  that  I  have  press- 
ing business  elsewhere.  You,  Griffith,  know  what  you  have 
to  do  and  where  to  await  me.  And  I  hope,  Philemon,  that 
our  next  meeting  may  be  under  less  bellicose  conditions." 

As  he  spoke  he  urged  his  horse  into  a  gallop  and  in  a 
few  minutes  was  out  of  sight,  while  his  two  friends  fol- 
lowed in  his  track  at  a  more  leisurely  pace. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

EXIT  OMPHALE 

WITH  the  dawning  of  the  day  that  followed  upon  her 
little  experiment  as  Omphale,  Clarenda  became  con- 
scious of  a  certain  somewhat  uncomfortable  feeling  that 
she  had  not  enjoyed  her  jest  so  heartily  as  she  had  antici- 
pated. She  found  herself  wondering  if  by  any  chance 
Master  Flood  might  have  felt  himself  aggrieved  by  the 
pleasantry  and  in  consequence  have  taken  offence.  In  such 
a  case  it  were  very  possible  that  he  might  not  pay  her  his 
daily  visit,  and  Clarenda  discovered,  alike  to  her  surprise 
and  chagrin,  that  she  at  once  regretted  and  resented  such 
a  possibility.  She  had  so  come  to  regard  his  visit  as  part 
and  parcel  of  her  daily  routine  that  she  did  not  realise  how 
much  it  really  meant  to  her  until  she  began  to  fear  that  its 
continuity  was  threatened.  Also  she  had  so  absolutely 
taken  for  granted  the  sailor's  complete  and  unquestioning 
subjection  to  her  charms  that  the  thought  of  any  rebel- 
lion, no  matter  how  naturally  provoked,  exasperated  her 
exceedingly.  All  that  she  had  been  able  to  learn  on  the 
previous  day  from  her  three  guests  from  Willoughby  Hom- 
ing was  that  Master  Flood  had  told  them  a  merry  tale  that 
was  not  repeatable  to  a  lady's  ear  and  that  after  sending 
his  humbler  duty  to  her  he  had  gone  his  ways  very  light- 
heartedly. 

She  began  to  fear  now  that  the  sailor-man  might  be 
huffed  by  her  impertinence  and  refuse  to  return  to  her 
thrall.  But  yesterday  she  would  have  assured  herself  that 
such  a  course  on  his  part  would  very  well  content  her,  but 
now  she  realised  that  it  was  quite  otherwise,  and  that  she 
was  as  hot  to  see  him  as  she  had  been  cool.  To  such  a  pitch 
did  she  permit  her  anxiety  to  mount  that  she  despatched  a 
servant  on  horseback  to  the  town  to  seek  out  Master  Flood 
at  the  "Dolphin"  and  acquaint  him  that  Mistress  Constant 
187 


188  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

expected  to  see  him  that  morning  as  usual.  The  servant 
returned  in  an  hour,  that  seemed  a  long  one  to  Clarenda, 
with  the  news  that  Master  Flood  was  not  to  be  found  at 
his  lodging.  He  had  risen  early,  so  the  landlord  had  said, 
and  had  gone  abroad  without  leaving  any  word  as  to  where 
he  was  going  or  when  he  would  return.  He  was  accom- 
panied, it  seemed,  by  his  mate,  so  the  landlord  opined  that 
he  might  be  going  to  visit  his  ship,  but  this  was  a  mere 
conjecture,  offered  for  what  it  was  worth. 

With  these  tidings  Clarenda  was  compelled  to  seem  con- 
tent, but  it  left  her  very  discontented.  She  was  burning 
to  know  in  what  spirit  he  had  taken  her  yesterday's  trickery 
and  what  feelings  he  entertained  towards  the  fine  gentle- 
men who  had  laughed  at  him.  Earnestly  she  hoped  that 
he  had  not  taken  offence  and  would  keep  tryst  as  usual, 
to  solace  her  curiosity  and  ease  her  disquiet. 

She  was  still  a  prey  to  anxiety  and  agitation  when  the 
hour  drew  nigh  at  which  Hercules  Flood  was  wont  to  pay 
her  his  daily  visit.  She  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would 
repair  to  the  orchard  close  as  if  nothing  out  of  the  way 
had  happened  and  wait  there  for  his  coming,  as  if  his  com- 
ing were  to  be  taken  for  granted.  After  all,  she  asked  her- 
self, in  the  hope  of  convincing  her  uncertainty,  why  should 
it  not  be  taken  for  granted  ?  A  harmless  jest  is  not  matter 
grave  enough  to  disturb  an  ardent  wooer.  So  to  the  orchard 
she  went  and  to  the  rustic  seat,  but  this  time  she  did  not 
feign  sleep,  but  sat  awake  and  alert  with  straining  ears  to 
hear  if  her  familiar  victim  returned  to  his  chains. 

As  it  neared  the  stroke  of  the  hour  when  Hercules  Flood 
should  make  his  appearance,  her  face  suddenly  lightened, 
for  she  heard  the  familiar  galloping  of  a  horse's  hooves 
upon  the  high  road  by  the  moor.  She  thrilled  with  a  sense 
of  triumph  at  the  thought  that  Hercules  was  returning  to 
his  allegiance  and  that  he  would  very  soon  be  standing  be- 
fore her. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was  indeed  standing  before  her  and 
she  glanced  up  from  the  book  that  she  had  been  pretend- 
ing to  read  that  she  might  give  him  greeting.  But  there 
was  an  unfamiliar  expression  on  his  face  which  checked 
the  condescension  of  her  smile.  It  was  not  anger  or  re- 
proach that  she  read  there;  anger  or  reproach  she  believed 


EXIT  OMPHALE  189 

herself  royally  qualified  to  strive  with  and  to  subdue ;  in- 
deed, his  habitual  good-humour  still  reigned  in  his  face. 
But  it  seemed  to  reign  there  with  a  new  decision  that  sur- 
prised her,  which  might  even  have  alarmed  her  if  for  a 
moment  she  could  admit  to  herself  that  there  might  be 
anything  alarming  in  the  bearing  of  her  slave.  In  her 
quick  survey  of  him  she  noted  that  he  carried  behind  his 
back  one  hand,  as  if  it  held  something  that  he  wished 
to  conceal  from  her.  He  noted  her  observation,  and 
smiled. 

"Lady,"  he  said,  "I  bring  you  these  tokens  from  certain 
of  your  friends  who  will  scarcely  be  able  to  wait  upon  you 
to-day." 

As  he  spoke  he  brought  forward  his  right  hand  and  flung 
three  naked  swords  at  her  feet.  A  sudden  terror  seemed  to 
contract  her  heart. 

"What  is  this  gift?"  she  cried,  and  she  knew  that  her 
voice  shook  as  she  spoke  in  fear  of  some  catastrophe  she 
did  not  dare  to  guess  at. 

"Those,"  replied  Hercules  composedly,  "are  the  swords 
of  Sir  Batty  Sellars,  Master  Winwood  and  Master  Wil- 
loughby." 

Clarenda  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  cry,  her  strained  face 
staring  at  him. 

"My  God,  have  you  killed  them?" 

Hercules  shook  his  head. 

"No,  no,  it  takes  much  to  make  me  want  to  kill  any  man ; 
more  than  they  did,  very  surely.  My  dignity  is  not  of  so 
ticklish  a  quality  that  it  must  cleanse  an  affront  with  heart's 
blood." 

"Sir  Batty  is  alive?"  said  Clarenda  slowly.  His  was 
the  case  that  most  concerned  her.  She  was  very  pale  still 
and  she  trembled  a  little,  but  her  self-command  returned. 

"He  is  alive.  He  did  his  best  to  kill  me,  in  no  very  hon- 
ourable manner  and  I  could  have  killed  him  as  easy  as  you 
please,  but  he  is  alive  and  with  no  worse  mischief  than  a 
prick  in  the  shoulder.  He  may  keep  his  bed  for  a  little,  and 
there  for  the  time  let  us  leave  him,  for  we  have  better  stuff 
to  chew.  It  is  you  and  I  now,  lady." 

He  spoke  with  a  quiet  steady  earnestness  that  perplexed 
Clarenda.  3he  was  honestly  shocked  at  the  result  of  her 


190  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

folly  and  wished  the  ill  undone.  Now  she  forced  herself 
to  laugh  as  she  spoke. 

"Lordamercy,  Master  Fire-eater,  do  you  want  to  cross 
swords  with  me?" 

"No,"  answered  Hercules  composedly,  "nor  to  cross  wits 
with  you,  for  you  would  prove  too  sharp  for  me.  But 
there  is  some  thick  air  between  us  which  it  were  well  to 
clear." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  protested  Clarenda  disdain- 
fully, though  she  understood  him  very  well. 

"You  shall  very  soon,"  Hercules  promised.  "Just  a 
plain  say  and  a  plain  way.  You  allowed  me  to  woo  you." 

"That  was  very  gracious  of  me,"  said  Clarenda  carelessly, 
but  her  heart  was  not  as  flippant  as  her  voice,  and  she  hated 
the  coming  explanation. 

"Also,"  he  went  on  without  noticing  her  remark,  "you 
allowed  me  to  fancy  that  you  were  well-nigh  won." 

Clarenda  commanded  a  burst  of  laughter  in  the  midst 
of  which  she  cried  out,  "You  are  a  vain  ape."  Then  she 
fell  to  laughing  again.  Hercules  waited  quite  patiently  until 
she  chose  to  cease.  Then  he  put  her  a  question. 

"Were  you  making  a  fool  of  me?" 

Clarenda  started  laughing  again,  but  this  time  her  laugh- 
ter came  readily  enough,  and  there  was  a  taunting  note 
in  it,  for  her  temper  was  fired  by  the  carriage  of  the 
man. 

"Not  making,"  she  protested,  and  ceased  with  a  sneer. 

Hercules  seemed  to  draw  himself  a  little  more  together 
and  he  spoke  in  a  measured  voice. 

"Mistress  Clarenda,  I  have  the  honour  to  demand  your 
hand  in  marriage." 

Clarenda  went  red  with  rage  and  amazement.  Did  this 
sea-creature  really  presume  so  far. 

"And  I  have  the  honour  to  laugh  in  your  face,"  she  re- 
plied. Hercules  contemplated  her  with  a  mild  air  of  interest 
that  exasperated  her. 

"You  refuse?"  he  asked  with  the  manner  of  one  who  is 
neither  surprised  nor  disappointed,  but  still  seeks  for  defi- 
nite confirmation  of  what  he  hears. 

"It  seems  like  it,"  Clarenda  replied  with  a  shrug  of  her 
shoulders.  She  was  angry  with  this  talk  and  tired  of  it, 


EXIT  OMPHALE  191 

and  almost  unawares  a  little  frightened,  by  its  oddity  and 
its  calm. 

"Why?"  Hercules  asked,  as  if  he  applied  for  knowledge 
that  he  was  seriously  desirous  to  gain. 

"For  one  good  reason  out  of  a  hundred,"  Clarenda  an- 
swered, with  a  vindictive  sharpness,  "I  am  betrothed  in 
marriage  to  my  lord  of  Godalming." 

Just  for  a  moment  Hercules'  face  showed  surprise  and 
something  more  than  surprise.  He  puckered  his  lips  and 
emitted  a  long  whistle. 

"My  lord  of  Godalming,  the  Queen's  minister?"  he  ques- 
tioned, and  Clarenda  nodded  in  confirmation.  "Why,  he  is 
some  seventy  years  old/' 

"That,"  commented  Clarenda  tartly,  "is  God's  business, 
my  lord's  business,  and  my  business,  but  very  surely  it  is 
none  of  your  business." 

Hercules  shook  his  head  and  Clarenda  through  her  grow- 
ing vexation  noted  that  there  was  a  certain  sternness  in 
his  look  which  she  had  never  thought  he  could  command. 

"I  think  it  is  very  much  my  business,"  he  said,  after 
ruminating  for  a  while  upon  her  words. 

"How  so  ?"  she  asked  him  angrily,  though  even  her  anger 
admitted  that  there  was  justice  in  his  speech. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  before?"  he  asked.  The 
question  was  a  reproach,  but  there  was  no  reproach  in  his 
voice,  only  an  alert  curiosity. 

"Upon  my  soul,"  cried  Clarenda  scornfully,  "I  am  not 
bound  to  bawl  into  the  ears  of  every  man  I  meet  that  I 
am  a  betrothed  maid." 

"Very  true,"  replied  Hercules,  "but  you  were  bound  as 
a  bonded  maid  not  to  act  as  if  you  were  a  free  woman  with 
a  free  man.  However,  that  is  all  one.  Forget  and  forgive 
is  a  wholesome  motto.  Let  us  wed  and  say  no  more 
about  it." 

Clarenda  could  have  hit  him  for  the  cheerfulness  with 
which  he  seemed  to  take  her  agreement  for  granted. 

"Have  I  not  told  you,"  she  said  sharply,  "that  I  am  to 
be  married  to  my  lord  of  Godalming?" 

Hercules  waved  his  hand  with  an  air  of  protest  at  once 
derisive  and  commiserating. 

"How  can  you  say  so,  and  I  standing  by?    Do  you  think 


192  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

I  could  permit  such  a  monstrous  alliance?  Shall  your 
youth,  your  beauty,  your  freshness,  your  grace,  be  wasted 
in  the  arms  of  an  ancient?  No,  no,  you  must  never  marry 
my  lord  of  Godalming."  ^ 

Clarenda  twitched  her  lips  insolently. 

"Pray  how  will  you  prevent  it?"  she  asked. 

"Why,  very  easily,"  Hercules  answered.  "Just  by  marry- 
ing you  myself." 

Clarenda  smiled  scornfully. 

"So  simple  as  that?" 

Hercules  nodded. 

"Just  so  simple.  Do  you  know  that  I  own  a  castle  yonder 
in  the  heart  of  the  moor?" 

"I  know  not,  and  I  care  not,"  Clarenda  said  testily,  but 
Hercules  went  on  as  if  not  so  much  as  a  fly  had  buzzed. 

"It  is  an  ancient  place  but  in  good  repair,  and  I  think  I 
can  promise  you  will  like  it  when  you  pay  it  a  visit." 

Clarenda's  anger  was  waxing  within  her  at  the  fellow's 
staggering  fatuity. 

"Only  I  shall  not  pay  it  a  visit,"  she  said,  and  yawned 
impudently  without  concealment. 

"Yes,  you  will,"  responded  Hercules  firmly.  "We  will 
spend  our  honeymoon  there/' 

The  last  crinkles  of  Clarenda's  waning  yawn  rallied  and 
reasserted  themselves  as  an  especially  furious  frown. 

"You  are  ceasing  to  amuse  me,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that 
she  hoped  would  subjugate  his  rising  insolence,  but  it  had 
not  that  effect. 

"I  hope  you  are  beginning  to  adore  me,"  Hercules  said, 
with  the  same  polite  gravity.  Clarenda  was  well-nigh  be- 
side herself  with  anger. 

"Go,  fool,  go,"  she  screamed,  and  pointed  with  her  finger 
the  path  he  should  take  across  the  orchard  grass..  Hercules 
stood  as  still  as  a  tree  and  as  steadfast. 

"I  fear  you  are  obstinate,"  he  said  in  a  voice  whose 
tinge  of  compassion  maddened  its  hearer,  "but  indeed  I 
am  obstinate  too,  and  obstinacy  is  a  virtue  in  a  good  cause 
if  a  vice  in  a  bad  one.  Will  you  come  with  me,  lady?" 

He  made  the  proposition  with  such  insistence  that  in 
spite  of  herself  Clarenda  felt  compelled  to  give  him  an 
answer. 


EXIT  OMPHALE  193 

"No,"  she  said  roundly,  but  Hercules  did  not  seem  to 
take  her  denial  seriously,  for  he  asked  again: 

"Will  you  come  ?" 

Clarenda,  irritated  out  of  all  patience,  clenched  her  fists, 
stamped  upon  the  grass  and  well-nigh  yelled  at  her  ques- 
tioner an  emphatic,  "No,"  that  would  have  routed  most 
suitors.  But  it  had  no  disconcerting  effect  upon  Hercules. 

"You  will  come,"  he  asserted  with  a  quiet  positiveness 
that  fell  across  her  anger  like  a  splash  of  cold  water.  Then 
before  she  could  guess  at  his  intent  he  strode  to  her  and 
caught  her  in  his  arms  as  he  might  have  taken  up  a  child 
to  dandle  it.  So  holding  her  he  pressed  his  left  hand  across 
her  mouth  to  prevent  outcry,  and  bearing  her  as  if  she  were 
but  a  featherweight  he  ran  to  the  orchard  gate  and  passed 
through  it  into  the  fringe  of  wood  beyond. 

For  a  moment  she  was  too  amazed  at  this  attack  to  make 
any  resistance,  but  as  Hercules  proceeded  with  quick  strides 
to  carry  her  thus  helpless  through  the  thicket  she  found 
her  vigour  if  she  could  not  find  her  voice  and  rained  vain 
and  ineffectual  blows  upon  her  captor's  head  and  neck.  But 
Hercules  Flood,  swinging  along  at  the  same  measured  stride, 
and  supporting  her  as  easily  as  if  she  were  a  baby,  paid 
not  the  slightest  heed  to  her  cuffings,  but  continued  his 
course  to  the  spot  where  his  great  black  horse  was  waiting. 
Still  holding  the  struggling  damsel  pinioned  in  his  clip  he 
swung  himself  into  the  saddle  and  was  off  at  a  hand  gallop 
before  Clarenda  realised  that  her  mouth  was  now  at  liberty 
to  utter  as  many  screams  as  she  pleased. 

As  the  horse,  with  its  double  burden,  took  the  moorland 
Griffith  emerged  from  the  cover  of  the  wood,  entered  the 
orchard  and  picked  up  the  three  blades  that  Hercules  had 
cast  at  the  feet  of  Clarenda.  Tucking  them  under  his  arm 
he  quitted  the  orchard,  locking  the  gate  behind  him,  and 
mounting  his  own  horse  followed  at  a  leisurely  pace  in  the 
track  of  his  friend. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

MOUNT  DRAGON 

/^LARENDA  found  it  impossible  later  to  establish  any 
\^S  clear  record  in  her  mind  of  what  happened  thereafter. 
She  knew  indeed  she  was  seated  on  a  great  horse  in  front 
of  a  man  who  girdled  her  at  once  firmly  and  gently  with 
one  arm  while  with  the  other  he  guided  the  headlong  course 
of  his  steed  across  the  empty  moorland.  She  knew  that 
she  screamed  for  help  and  raved  abuse  and  strove  to  strike 
at  him  and  even  to  bite  him  in  the  blind  wildness  of  her 
rage.  She  knew  that  the  great  horse  seemed  to  gallop  with 
incredible  speed  over  the  moor,  sweeping  up  and  down 
the  billowing  undulations  as  easily  as  if  he  had  been  canter- 
ing on  the  Queen's  highway.  She  knew  that  her  captor  pre- 
served an  unbroken  silence  from  the  first  to  the  last  moment 
of  that  fantastic  journey  and  never  for  an  instant  turned  his 
steadfast  face  from  the  course  he  was  making  to  glance 
at  the  woman  who  was  writhing  in  his  grasp.  She  felt  in 
her  raging  helplessness  as  if  she  had  been  suddenly  snatched 
from  the  tranquillity  and  happy  laughter  of  her  ordered 
life  by  some  irresistible  earth-spirit  who  was  wafting  her 
away  upon  a  demon-steed  to  some  ghastly  cavern  between 
the  breasts  of  the  haunted  hills.  And  through  all  the  course 
of  that  awesome  ride  they  encountered  no  human  being. 
It  seemed  to  her  as  if  he  and  she  were  alone  in  the  world. 
At  length  when  her  voice  was  hoarse  with  alternate  im- 
precation and  entreaty  and  when  every  pulse  of  her 
body  seemed  to  be  throbbing  with  definite  fury  and  un- 
defined fear,  the  mad  career  that  threatened  to  her  unhinged 
senses  to  be  endless  came  to  an  end.  She  was  suddenly 
aware  that  the  hooves  of  the  horse  were  no  longer  speed- 
ing over  the  turf  of  the  downs  and  mounds,  but  were  clat- 
tering noisily  on  the  stony  incline  of  a  sloping  causeway. 
She  was  conscious  in  the  waning  light  of  a  massive  build- 
194 


MOUNT  DRAGON  195 

ing  that  showed  black  against  the  gold  and  azure  of  the 
summer  sky;  she  was  conscious  of  a  bridge  and  an  arch- 
way and  of  a  vast  courtyard  open  to  the  heavens.  Then  the 
horse,  under  the  pressure  of  his  rider's  hand,  came  to  a 
halt  as  if  it  had  been  magically  metamorphosed  into  bronze. 
In  another  instant  her  ravisher,  still  clasping  her  in  his 
arms,  had  flung  himself  lightly  from  the  saddle.  As  soon 
as  he  had  touched  the  earth  be  began  to  run,  carrying  her 
as  lightly  in  spite  of  her  shrieks  and  struggles  as  if  she 
were  a  doll,  through  the  gloom  of  a  great  doorway  into  a 
dimly-lighted  hall,  and  then  at  full  speed  up  an  obscure  and 
winding  staircase  that  seemed  to  be  set  in  the  thickness 
of  the  wall.  From  this  she  suddenly  emerged  into  a  spacious 
chamber. 

The  next  moment  she  found  herself  being  swung  lightly 
from  her  captor's  clasp  into  the  depth  of  a  big  and  com- 
fortable chair.  She  seemed  to  slip  from  the  wheel  of  a 
whirlwind  into  the  peace  of  a  half -conscious  repose.  When 
she  opened  her  eyes  she  found  that  she  was  alone. 

She  looked  about  her  eagerly,  trying  to  realise  her  where- 
abouts. The  room  was  large  and  handsomely  furnished. 
In  front  of  her  was  a  great  fireplace  on  which  a  wood  fire 
burned.  Behind  her  a  wide  double  window  recessed  in 
the  thickness  of  the  wall  stood  open  to  the  air.  To  the 
right  of  the  window  was  a  large  oil  painting  in  a  heavily 
carved  and  gilded  frame  which  she  saw,  almost  without 
realising  what  she  saw,  to  be  a  life-size  portrait  of  the 
Queen.  At  her  left  was  the  great  door  through  which  she 
had  entered,  and  at  her  right  a  smaller  door  that  was 
screened  by  a  velvet  curtain.  Over  the  fireplace  was  fixed 
a  pair  of  antlered  skulls  of  deer  and  between  them  was  a 
small  trophy  composed  of  the  bows  and  quivers  that  em- 
blemed their  doom.  Against  the  wall  was  a  massive  table 
furnished  with  writing  materials. 

Clarenda's  first  action  was  to  run  to  each  of  the  doors  in 
turn,  only  to  find  that  both  were  locked.  Then  she  hastened 
to  the  window  and  looked  out  with  the  faint  hope  of 
learning  where  she  was.  But  she  beheld  nothing  familiar 
to  her,  nothing  but  the  green  monotony  of  the  moorland 
stretching  away  in  arrested  wave  and  trough  of  hill  and 
valley. 


196  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

The  window  was  so  deeply  set  in  the  thickness  of  the 
wall  that  she  had  heard  no  sound  of  drawing  bolt  or  turn- 
ing key,  but  she  suddenly  felt  conscious  that  she  was  no 
longer  alone  in  the  room.  As  she  swung  round  from  the 
window  she  saw  Hercules  Flood  standing  before  her  in 
an  attitude  of  courteous  deference  with  a  hospitable  smile 
upon  his  face. 

"You  are  welcome  to  my  poor  house,"  he  said.  "It  and 
its  master  are  heartily  at  your  service." 

She  moved  towards  him  with  a  reeling  brain  and  furious 
eyes.  She  essayed  to  speak  but  no  words  came  to  her 
lips.  Of  all  that  she  had  screamed  or  shouted  during  that 
mad  ride  across  the  moorland  she  could  remember  nothing, 
and  she  seemed  to  have  exhausted  all  her  store  of  protest. 
Hercules  saw  the  stress  of  her  emotion,  but  he  chose  not 
to  notice  it. 

"Suffer  me,"  he  said  gently,  "to  offer  you  some  refresh- 
ment after  your  journey.  A  little  wine." 

She  found  breath  now  and  speech  in  a  fresh  gust  of  fury 
at  his  carriage,  as  debonair  and  amiable  as  if  all  the  hor- 
ror that  had  happened  were  the  most  everyday  matter  in 
the  world. 

"Have  you  gone  mad  all  of  a  sudden,"  she  burst  out. 
"Do  you  think  there  is  no  justice  in  Devon,  nor  no  queen 
in  England,  nor  no  God  in  heaven  that  you  act  thus?" 

"My  knowledge  and  my  faith,"  he  answered  gravely, 
"assure  me  of  justice  and  queen  and  God.  With  that 
knowledge  and  with  that  faith  I  have  carried  you  to  my 
castle." 

"Take  me  hence  at  once,"  Clarenda  commanded  fiercely. 
"Set  me  free  on  the  instant." 

Hercules  permitted  himself  the  ripple  of  a  smile  as  he 
listened  to  the  imperious  maid.  As  for  her,  while  she 
spoke  so  bravely  she  could  scarcely  believe  that  it  was  in- 
deed she  who  was  speaking  and  in  such  terms,  in  such  a 
place,  to  the  man  who  stood  before  her.  It  all  seemed  part 
of  the  confused  substance  of  a  crazy  dream.  And  yet  it 
was  no  dream. 

"Mistress  Clarenda,"  said  Hercules  very  soberly  and 
suavely,  "the  key  to  this  castle  is  ready  to  your  hand ; 
the  pass-word  for  your  freedom  is  for  you  to  speak.  Give 


MOUNT  DRAGON  197 

me  your  promise  to  marry  me  and  you  shall  return  to  'The 
Golden  Hart'  or  to  King's  Welcome  at  once." 

"I  will  give  you  no  promise,"  she  said  wildly,  "and  I  in- 
tend to  return  to  King's  Welcome  at  once." 

"I  think  not,"  he  said  quietly,  his  manner  as  gentle  as 
hers  was  fierce.  "You  came  here,  I  fear  me,  somewhat 
against  your  will,  and  very  certainly  you  cannot  go  away 
from  here  against  my  will." 

"You  dare  not  keep  me  here,"  she  menaced,  "you  dare 
not,  you  dare  not." 

"May  I  presume  to  suggest,"  he  said  in  a  manner  too 
polite  to  have  any  smack  of  banter,  "that  if  I  dared  make 
so  bold  as  to  bring  you  here  I  may  very  well  dare  make 
so  bold  as  to  keep  you  here." 

There  was  such  a  disagreeable  leaven  of  reason  in  what 
the  man  said  that  Clarenda  in  spite  of  her  bold  show  of 
courage  felt  very  uncomfortable. 

"Do  you  think  that  I  shall  not  be  missed?"  she  asked 
defiantly.  Hercules  shook  his  head. 

"I  am  positive  that  you  will  be  very  greatly  missed  by 
all  who  have  the  felicity  to  be  the  familiars  of  your  society," 
he  assured  her. 

"You  mock  me,"  she  said  bitterly,  "but  indeed  you  shall 
be  very  sorry  for  your  mocking/' 

"Indeed  I  do  not  mock  you,"  he  said  earnestly.  "Why 
should  I  mock  a  lady  whom  I  love  very  honestly." 

"Love!"  She  repeated  his  word  and  laughed  at  him. 
"Love  and  insult  do  not  go  together.  Love  and  ruffian 
violence  do  not  consort." 

"Dear  lady,"  said  Hercules,  "you  speak  wildly  and  at 
all  adventure.  Here  is  no  insult,  nor,  save  in  the  matter  of 
our  gallop,  does  anything  akin  to  violence  come  into  ques- 
tion, and  that  was  managed  as  gently  as  might  be." 

"I  wish  you  would  have  done  with  talking,"  Clarenda  said, 
"and  let  me  go  hence  quickly,  for  I  am  weary  of  you." 

"You  will  go  hence  the  moment  you  consent  to  marry 
me,"  Hercules  said  slowly,  "but  not  a  moment  sooner.  There 
is  nothing  of  the  ruffian  in  my  conduct.  You  knew  very 
well  that  I  loved  you.  You  led  me  to  believe  that  my 
service  was  pleasing  to  you.  Therefore  there  can  be  no 
offence  in  my  offer  of  marriage.  For  my  means  they  are 


198  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

ample  enough  to  gratify  your  desires ;  I  hope  I  am  neither 
ill-bred  nor  ill-mannered,  and  as  for  my  gentility  I  am  an 
Armada-man,  which  is  the  proudest  title  in  England." 

"You  seem  to  forget  that  I  have  told  you  I  am  betrothed 
to  my  lord  of  Godalming,"  the  girl  said  coldly.  Hercules 
met  her  disdainful  gaze  unmoved. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  were  the  first  to  forget  it  when 
you  suffered  me  to  woo  you  and  never  chose  to  tell  me 
that  you  were  not  free  to  be  wooed.  Now  your  news  comes 
too  late  and  it  has  not  sweetened  in  keeping.  Old  gentle- 
men of  seventy  should  not  hope  to  marry  young  maids  of 
twenty  while  there  are  lusty  bloods  in  the  world  to  go 
a-wooing." 

"My  lord  of  Godalming,"  cried  the  raging  girl,  "will  know 
how  to  avenge  his  offended  honour." 

"That  is  for  hereafter,"  Hercules  replied.  "I  think  my 
lord  might  have  been  better  employed  than  in  running  after 
maidens  that  might  be  his  grand-chicks.  But  since  you  have 
brought  my  lord  of  Godalming  into  our  talk,  I  will  ask  you 
a  question.  On  your  honour  as  a  woman  and  as  a  clean  maid 
are  you  in  love  with  Lord  Godalming." 

"Why  do  you  ask?"  Clarenda  cried,  with  a  sudden  flush- 
ing face  in  spite  of  herself. 

"Because  I  wish  to  know,"  answered  Hercules.  "Are 
you  in  love  with  Lord  Godalming?" 

"I  like  him  very  much,"  the  girl  faltered,  most  uncon- 
vincingly. 

"That  is  not  my  answer,"  said  Hercules,  "though  it  is 
indeed  an  answer  of  a  sort,  but  I  seek  for  a  fuller  one.  Do 
you  love  Lord  Godalming  as  a  true  maid  should  love  the 
man  she  is  going  to  wed,  with  rapture  and  passion  and  long- 
ing?" 

Clarenda  grew  very  pale,  and  she  steadied  herself  with 
a  hand  upon  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"You  know  that  is  not  possible,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

"I  did  not  think  it  could  be  possible,"  said  Hercules,  "but 
nature  has  her  caprices,  and  if  you  could  have  said  so  with 
a  whole  heart  it  might  have  gone  hard  with  me  to  keep 
you  here." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  eagerly,  tingling  with  a  new  hope. 


MOUNT  DRAGON  199 

"How  if  I  told  you  that  there  was  another  for  whom  I 
did  so  care?"  she  asked. 

"That  should  not  serve  you,"  Hercules  answered  firmly. 
"This  duty  of  yours  to  Lord  Godalming1  which  you  would 
set  as  a  shield  between  you  and  me,  must  stand  as  strong 
between  you  and  another." 

"I  wish  that  other  were  here  to  save  me,"  Clarenda  cried 
fiercely. 

Hercules  shook  his  head. 

"I  doubt  if  he  would  prove  of  much  service,  whoever  he 
may  be.  But  if  you  please  we  will  put  him  of  one  side  in 
this  business,  which  lies  wholly  between  you  and  me.  I 
want  to  marry  you,  and  you  made  me  believe  I  could  marry 
you,  and  I  mean  to  marry  you." 

"Do  you  mean  to  force  me  to  marry  you  ?"  the  girl  asked, 
shrinking  a  little  as  she  spoke  and  fixing  wild  eyes  upon 
his  quiet  face. 

"God  forbid,"  he  said,  and  crossed  himself  as  he  spoke, 
and  he  said  it  so  earnestly  that  the  girl  was  re-assured. 
"But  I  hope  to  win  you  by  fair  means " 

"Never !"  Clarenda  interrupted  contemptuously.  She  felt 
now  that  she  was  safe  in  his  hands,  and  free  to  flout  him. 
But  Hercules  took  no  notice  of  the  interruption. 

"And  I  shall  keep  you  here  until  I  do.  Believe  me  I 
have  very  good  hopes.  I  am  no  worse  a  wooer  than  many 
another  man.  You  have  led  me  to  believe  that  you  liked 

"That  was  only  make-believe,"  the  girl  flung  in  passion- 
ately. Hercules  showed  an  indulgent  smile  which  served 
to  heighten  her  exasperation. 

"That  is  as  it  may  be,"  he  replied  good-humouredly,  "and 
even  if  it  were  so  I  have  known  many  a  make-believe  turn 
to  a  very  pretty  reality.  Anyhow  we  can  but  try.  In 
the  meantime  you  are  comfortably  lodged.  There  are 
women  here  to  wait  upon  you  who  will  prove  obedient  to 
all  your  wishes" — he  paused  and  added  with  a  smile — "save 
your  wish  to  escape.  I  have  provided  a  housekeeper,  a  most 
worthy  and  reputable  dame  who  shall  wait  upon  you  like 
your  shadow,  shall  keep  you  as  close  company  as  ever  Span- 
ish duenna,  so  that  your  good  fame  shall  run  no  risk  of  tar- 
nish. For  myself  I  shall  only  visit  you  in  the  day-time  and 


200  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

at  the  time  and  period  of  our  familiar  orchard  hour  when, 
if  you  so  wish,  the  good  woman  shall  keep  us  company." 

"You  are  a  mighty  considerate  gentleman,"  said  Clarenda, 
mocking  him.  Yet  she  thought  that,  after  all,  she  spoke 
some  measure  of  truth. 

"Indeed  I  hope  so,"  Hercules  replied,  as  simply  as  if 
Clarenda  had  patently  meant  what  she  said,  "and  I  hope 
that  you  may  find  that  your  visit  to  my  poor  abode  will  prove 
pleasanter  than  you,  at  this  present,  expect.  And  in  order 
that  we  may  start  in  a  spirit  of  good-fellowship  I  will  make 
so  bold  as  again  to  offer  you  refreshment." 

He  struck  on  a  bell  as  he  spoke,  and  a  woman-servant 
promptly  made  her  appearance.  She  was  a  healthy,  pleas- 
ant-faced West  Country  lass,  a  sister  of  one  of  Hercules' 
seamen,  and  she  had  been  too  well  schooled  by  Griffith  to 
show  the  slightest  surprise  at  the  presence  of  a  great  lady 
in  the  lonely  fastness.  She  paid  a  profound  reverence  to 
Clarenda  of  which  the  girl  took  no  notice,  and  received  the 
commands  of  Hercules  to  serve  a  collation  at  once.  When 
she  had  left  the  room  Clarenda  turned  hotly  upon  Hercules. 

"You  need  order  no  repast  for  me,"  she  cried,  "for  I 
will  not  eat  or  drink  of  your  cheer." 

"You  will  when  you  are  hungry,"  Hercules  replied  confi- 
dently, "and  in  the  meantime  I  have  no  wish  to  force  your 
appetite.  But  while  we  await  our  victuals  I  think  it  were 
well  that  we  should  come  to  some  terms  together." 

"I  will  make  no  terms  with  you,"  said  Clarenda.  "You 
are  a  villain." 

"I  am  not  a  villain,"  Hercules  asserted  composedly,  "as 
I  hope  you  will  find  out  in  good  time,  and  you  must  come 
to  some  terms  with  me,  as  you  will  find  out  immediately. 
If  you  are  in  a  sense  my  prisoner  I  wish  to  make  your 
captivity  as  easy  and  pleasing  as  possible,  but  its  ease  and 
pleasure  depend  in  a  great  degree  upon  yourself." 

"What  ease  or  pleasure  can  there  be?"  Clarenda  asked 
bitterly,  "in  this  hateful  place  and  in  such  hateful  com- 
pany ?" 

"That  depends  very  much  upon  you,"  Hercules  answered. 
"Now,  for  example,  I  take  it  that  however  much  you  are 
momentarily  incensed  against  me" — Clarenda  could  have 
yelled  with  rage  at  his  impudent  use  of  the  word  "momen- 


MOUNT  DRAGON  201 

tarily" — "you  are  far  too  sensible  a  woman  to  make  any  at- 
tempt upon  your  life.  If  I  thought  you  were  not  so  sensible 
I  should  have  to  see  to  it  that  you  were  never  left  alone,  that 
you  were  fed  by  your  women,  that  no  sharp  instrument  was 
allowed  to  be  near  you,  and — most  important  point  of  all 
• — that  this  window  should  be  bricked  up." 

He  pointed  as  he  spoke  to  the  fair  open  window  in  the 
recess  which  admitted  the  light  and  air  in  bountiful  meas- 
ure and  commanded  a  noble  view  of  the  spreading  moor. 
Clarenda  sneered  at  him. 

"I  am  not  going  to  take  my  life,"  she  replied,  "because 
I  have  had  the  misfortune  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  ruffian 
whom  I  hope  to  live  to  see  hanged." 

Hercules  took  her  vituperation  in  excellent  part  and 
showed  only  pleasure  at  her  assurance. 

,^I  accept  your  promise,"  he  said.  "Let  me  assure  you 
that  unless  you  were  a  bird  or  were  as  celestially  an  angel 
as  you  are  an  angel  terrestrially  and  so  were  possessed  of 
wings,  you  could  never  escape  from  my  eyrie." 

Clarenda  said  nothing  in  reply  but  she  gave  him  a  very 
venomous  glance.  Hercules  continued. 

"Let  me  also  assure  you  that  you  shall  ever  receive  the 
most  respectful  treatment  while  you  honour  my  house  with 
your  presence.  Within  the  confines  of  your  apartments  you 
shall  be  free  to  do  as  you  please.  The  only  condition  I 
presume  to  make  is  that  I  shall  be  permitted  the  same  priv- 
ilege as  I  enjoyed  when  you  tenanted  'The  Golden  Hart,' 
that  of  being  granted  the  daily  audience  of  an  hour  in  .which 
to  plead  my  suit." 

"If  every  day  had  a  hundred  hours,"  said  Clarenda  sav- 
agely, "and  every  minute  of  those  hours  were  each  of  an 
hour's  length,  and  all  of  them  were  yours  to  woo  me,  you 
might  speak  from  here  till  Doomsday  and  be  no  better  than 
you  are  to-day." 

Hercules  permitted  himself  a  smile  of  amiable  disagree- 
ment. 

"If  a  man  has  anything  to  say  that  is  worth  saying/'  he 
urged,  "it  generally  wins  home  in  the  end." 

At  this  point  in  the  strange  dialogue  two  women  servants 
— the  same  that  had  come  before  and  another  much  like 
her — entered,  bearing  between  them  a  large  tray  furnished 


202  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

with  viands  and  wines.  They  set  the  tray  down  on  a  side- 
board while  they  placed  a  small  table  near  to  where  Clarenda 
stood,  and  after  covering  it  with  a  fair  cloth,  arrayed  the 
meat  and  liquor  upon  it.  Hercules  indicated  the  ordered 
table  with  his  hand. 

"Pray  do  me  the  honour  to  sit  and  eat,"  he  requested. 
"You  must  surely  be  in  need  of  food." 

"I  am  not  hungry,"  Clarenda  answered  coldly.  This  was 
not  true  for  she  was  very  hungry  indeed.  It  was  an  age- 
long time  past  her  dinner  hour,  at  which  time  she,  being  a 
healthy  young  woman,  was  accustomed  to  make  a  hearty 
meal.  She  was  tired,  too,  and  needed  the  stimulant  of  food 
and  drink.  But  she  was  firm  not  to  demean  herself  to  ac- 
cept her  captor's  hospitality. 

When  Hercules  found  that  he  could  not  persuade  her  to 
taste  the  meat,  he  filled  a  silver  cup  with  wine  at  the  side- 
board and  proffered  it  to  Clarenda,  but  she  thrust  it  from 
her  so  sharply  that  some  of  the  wine  was  spilled  from  the 
cup  and  ran  over  the  fingers  of  Hercules  and  made  a  little 
red  pool  on  the  floor. 

"I  wish  it  were  your  heart's  blood,"  she  said  sombrely. 
Hercules  only  smiled  at  her  vehemence. 

"My  heart's  blood  is  ever  at  your  service,"  he  protested. 

Clarenda  turned  swiftly  upon  him. 

"If  you  speak  truth,"  she  cried,  "and  not  ungallant  mock- 
ery, shed  me  your  heart's  blood  now,  that  it  may  mingle 
with  the  spilt  wine  on  the  floor." 

"That  would  be  but  to  do  you  a  great  disservice,"  Her- 
cules replied  calmly.  "You  will  come  to  find  that  you 
can  put  my  blood  to  a  better  service  than  to  mess  the 
boards." 

"If  you  will  render  me  this  service  I  shall  ask  for  no 
other,"  said  Clarenda. 

"Likely  not,"  answered  Hercules,  "for  it  is  vain  to  ask 
favours  of  a  dead  man.  But  while  I  live  I  am  ever  your 
servant,  and  I  drink  now  to  your  health,  and  your  bet- 
ter understanding,  and  to  our  happiness  together  here- 
after." 

Clarenda  gave  him  a  stabbing  glance,  but  it  slid  off  the 
imperturbability  of  her  host  who  drained  his  cup  and  set 
it  down  upon  the  table.  Once  again  he  pressed  her  to  eat 


MOUNT  DRAGON  203 

and  on  her  refusal  the  women  advanced  to  clear  the  board, 
but  Hercules  stayed  them  with  a  gesture. 

"Leave  the  good  victuals,"  he  commanded.  "The  lady 
may  like  a  bite  or  sup  later  on." 

Clarenda  was  so  infuriated  by  the  patronage  of  this 
forethought  that  she  forgot  all  her  pretty  manners  in  her 
anger.  She  gripped  a  hold  on  a  corner  of  the  table-cloth, 
gave  a  tug  at  it  and  launched  all  the  contents  of  the  table 
in  confusion  on  the  floor.  Manchets  of  bread  skipped  hither 
and  thither.  The  silver  goblet  from  which  Hercules  had 
drunk  rolled  with  a  drumming  sound  across  the  boards. 
The  meats,  which  happily  were  cold  and  included  a  chicken 
and  a  chine  of  beef,  lay  where  they  fell  and  preserved  some 
air  of  dignity  in  their  overthrow. 

Clarenda  gave  a  little  groan  of  horror  when  she  saw 
what  she  had  done,  but  Hercules  took  no  more  notice  of 
the  episode  than  if  it  had  been  the  customary  manner  for 
a  lady  to  conclude  a  repast.  He  dismissed  the  servants 
with  a  gesture  and  addressed  Clarenda  again. 

"It  is  now  fitting  that  I  should  take  my  leave.  I  have 
enjoyed  to-day  more  than  my  allotted  share  of  your  com- 
pany, but  the  circumstances  were  unusual  and  must  excuse 
me.  To-morrow  I  will  permit  myself  to  wait  upon  you 
at  the  familiar  time  and  I  promise  you  that  I  will  not 
exceed  my  licence  without  your  permission." 

"I  cannot,"  said  Clarenda,  "while  I  am  your  prisoner, 
prevent  you  from  importuning  me  with  your  presence  and 
your  insolence.  But  you  shall  find  that  you  are  speaking 
to  a  stone." 

"A  friend  of  mine,"  replied  Hercules,  "told  me  that 
there  was  once  a  poet  in  old  Greece — I  forget  his  name — 
who  was  so  cunning  with  his  songs  that  he  could  even 
persuade  stones  to  move  from  their  settled  places.  I  hope 
that  the  sincerity  of  my  speech  may  have  no  less  fortunate 
an  effect  than  the  pipings  of  the  antique  singer." 

Clarenda's  only  reply  was  to  turn  away  from  the  speaker 
with  an  air  of  unconquerable  aversion. 

"In  the  meantime,"  Hercules  went  on,  "yonder  is  your 
sleeping  apartment,  and  within  attends  a  very  worthy  woman 
whom  I  have  appointed  to  wait  upon  you.  You  will  find 
her  amiable,  obsequious,  and  in  all  things,  save  one  thing, 


204  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

obedient.  She  will  remain  in  her  ante-room  of  nights  and 
it  will  be  her  final  duty,  when  you  choose  to  retire,  to  bolt 
yonder  door  securely  so  that  no  one  can  intrude  upon  your 
privacy.  I  may  say,  however,  that  the  door  will  also  be 
locked  from  the  outside  so  that  if  by  any  chance  you  did 
succeed  in  cheating  your  guardian  and  drawing  the  bolts, 
you  would  be  no  nearer  to  the  freedom  you  covet,  but 
which,  I  believe,  you  would  regret  if  you  obtained  it,  than 
you  are  at  this  moment." 

While  she  glared  at  him,  unable  to  think  of  any  further 
flout  or  jeer  that  seemed  worthy  of  her  sense  of  wrong, 
Hercules  made  her  an  obeisance  and,  turning,  quitted  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

DEBORAH   PENFEATHER 

LONG  after  the  departure  of  Hercules,  Clarenda  sat 
in  the  chair  into  which  she  had  dropped  mechanically, 
thoughtless  in  the  very  thronging  of  her  thoughts.  At  last, 
however,  she  roused  herself  from  her  lethargy  and  re- 
solved to  find  a  measure  of  ease  for  her  cares  in  action  of 
some  kind.  Confirmation  of  her  intent  came  to  her  as  she 
rose  and  faced  the  great  painting  of  the  Queen  which 
seemed  to  stare  at  her  with  the  same  strange,  menacing 
smile  that  her  Majesty  so  often  displayed  to  her  sisterkins. 
Clarenda  almost  unconsciously  approached  the  portrait  and 
surveyed  it.  It  represented  the  great  Queen  in  a  kind  of 
fancy  dress,  very  gorgeous  and  barbaric  in  colouring,  and 
as  it  showed  her  in  the  happy  serenity  of  extreme  youth 
it  was  clearly  an  ideal  if  not  imaginary  image,  conceived 
from  his  fancy  by  the  painter  who  had  signed  his  name  in 
a  corner,  "Philemon  Minster."  Still,  it  gave  the  great 
Queen's  features,  and  it  gave  the  great  Queen's  gaze,  and 
it  had  enough  of  the  great  Queen  about  it  to  make  Clar- 
enda wonder  what  the  great  Queen  would  think  if  she 
knew  of  the  present  state  of  her  maid  of  honour.  Also 
it  had  enough  of  the  great  Queen  about  it  to  make  Clarenda 
resolute  to  act  as  that  Queen  might  act  in  her  condition. 

If  she  was  a  captive,  at  least  her  prison,  judging  by 
the  great  room  in  which  she  stood,  was  both  roomy  and 
comfortable.  She  now  determined  to  explore  the  remainder 
of  her  domain,  and  with  this  intention  she  went  to  the 
curtained  door  and,  finding  it  now  unlocked,  passed  through. 
She  halted  in  a  small  room,  neatly  and  plainly  furnished 
with  a  truckle-bed,  a  table  and  a  chair,  which  served  as 
an  ante-room  to  a  larger  room  beyond  that  was  curtained 
off  from  it.  Crossing  the  room  and  drawing  this  curtain 
205 


206  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Clarenda  entered  a  handsome  bedchamber  that  was  fur- 
nished as  richly  and  as  agreeably  as  the  most  fastidious  in- 
mate could  desire.  Pile  of  Geneva  carpeted  the  floor;  ex- 
quisitely worked  Arras  mantled  the  walls.  A  magnificently 
carved  bed  with  elaborately  wrought  pillars  held  a  place  of 
state  and  thickly  cushioned  chairs  of  eastern  design  tempted 
to  indolence  and  suggested  repose.  There  were  basins  and 
ewers  of  solid  silver  that  were  worthy  of  a  Queen's  use, 
and  an  abundance  of  napery  that  seemed  finer  and  whiter 
than  anything  that  Clarenda  had  seen  at  Court.  A  quan- 
tity of  curious  cut  and  coloured  flagons,  precious  in  them- 
selves, seemed  to  be  charged  with  essences  yet  more  pre- 
cious. Stately  chests  of  carved  oak  proved  later  to  be 
richly  stored  with  all  the  necessaries  of  woman's  gear. 

In  the  room  a  stout  middle-aged  woman  sat  before  a 
small  fire  on  a  large  hearth  and  knitted  assiduously  as  if 
the  world  would  never  grow  young. 

"Who  are  you?"  Clarenda  catechised,  with  a  challenge 
in  her  voice  that  she  deemed  due  to  herself. 

The  woman  rose  and  dipped  Clarenda  a  ponderous  curt- 
sey. She  was  a  broad-built,  large-faced  woman,  and  she 
surveyed  Clarenda  with  a  patient  scrutiny  which,  if  it  com- 
mented, kept  the  secret  of  its  comment. 

"Deborah  Penfeather,  madam,"  she  answered,  and  again 
lowered  and  elevated  her  bulk  as  she  spoke.  Clarenda  was 
somewhat  taken  aback  by  the  woman's  workaday  tran- 
quillity under  such  uneasy  conditions. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  she  asked,  as  a  sequel  to  her 
former  question.  Gammer  Penfeather  dipped  again. 

"Master  Flood  has  set  me  here  as  his  housekeeper,  hav- 
ing confidence  in  me  because  he  knew  me  for  many  a 
yesterday,  knows  me  to-day  and  will  know  me,  I  hope,  for 
many  a  come  to-morrow." 

"Are  you  privy  to  this  wicked  plot?"  cried  Clarenda 
hotly. 

Gammer  Penfeather  waggled  her  placid  face. 

"I  know  nothing  of  plots,"  she  answered,  "and  though 
I  have  seen  a  deal  of  wickedness  in  my  time,  I  thank 
Heaven  I  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  am  the  wife 
of  one  of  Master  Flood's  seamen,  and  the  mother  of  an- 
other. May  be  you  know  them,  young  lady?" 


DEBORAH  PENFEATHER  207 

"No,  I  do  not,"  Clarenda  protested,  interrupting,  but 
Deborah  Pen  feather  overflowed  her  interruption. 

"Folk  call  them  big  Jasper  Penfeather  and  little  Jasper 
Pen  feather,  by  way  of  nick-name  like,  for  my  husband 
is  a  good  six  foot  and  a  bittock  in  height,  he  is,  while  my 
son — and  this  is  the  only  matter  in  which  he  has  ever 
disappointed  his  family — is  no  more  than  a  paltry  five 
feet  eleven  inches  or  so.  Think  of  that  now.  What  a 
difference  you  see  between  great  A.  and  little  B.,  as  the 
saying  is." 

Having  recounted  this  family  history  to  the  very  un- 
willing ears  of  Clarenda,  Mistress  Deborah  Penfeather 
lifted  her  knitting-busy  fingers  from  the  pit  of  her  stomach 
to  which  she  had  lowered  them  on  Clarenda's  entrance, 
and  mooned  to  the  girl  with  extreme  good-humour.  But 
Clarenda  was  in  no  mood  to  be  tolerant  of  affable  banali- 
ties. 

"Deborah  Penfeather,"  said  Clarenda  hastily,  "do  you 
know  that  I  am  held  here  a  prisoner  against  my  will?" 

Deborah  Penfeather  moved  her  large  head  slowly  from 
side  to  side  in  an  action  that  resembled  the  oscillation  of 
a  pendulum. 

"I  know  what  I  know,"  she  answered,  "and  I  know 
not  what  I  do  not  know.  Truly  I  know  that  you  are  be- 
trothed to  Master  Flood." 

"I  am  nothing  of  the  sort,"  Clarenda  ejaculated  hur- 
riedly, but  Deborah  Penfeather,  never  heeding  her,  went 
on  slowly. 

"And  you  are  shortly  to  be  espoused,  and  I  will  say 
this  for  you  both  that  you  will  make  a  bonny  pair.  Never 
saw  I  a  finer  man  than  Master  Flood  though  I  married 
Jasper  Penfeather  that  was  a  fine  fellow  of  his  hands  and 
and  bore  another  Jasper  that  was  more  than  all  his  weight 
if  less  than  all  his  inches.  As  for  yourself  I  may  tell  you 
without  flattery  that  you  will  make  a  fair  bride." 

"I  hope  I  will  make  a  bride  one  of  these  days,"  said 
Clarenda  quickly,  "but  I  tell  you  here  and  now  that  I  am 
not  going  to  be  the  bride  of  your  ruffianly  master." 

Deborah  Penfeather  looked  at  Clarenda  with  an  air  of 
assured  tolerance  which  Clarenda  found  exceedingly  ex- 
asperating. 


208  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"I  have  it  in  my  mind,"  said  Deborah  Penfeather,  with 
a  careful  slowness,  "that  Master  Hercules  told  me  that 
he  was  bringing  home  his  bride  to  Mountdragon." 

"He  may  have  told  you  that "  Clarenda  sought  to 

interrupt,  but  Deborah  Penfeather  flowed  on  unheeding. 

"And  I  have  always  found  that  when  Master  Hercules 
said  a  thing  he  also  meant  it,  and  that  whenever  Master 
Hercules  said  a  thing  was  going  to  come  about  that  thing 
was  sure  to  come  about.  So  you  may  take  it  from  me, 
young  lady,  that  if  Master  Hercules  says  you  are  to  be  his 
bride,  his  bride  you  will  be,  will  you  or  nill  you,  and  it  were 
wise  for  you  to  make  up  your  mind  betimes  to  the  neces- 
sity." 

"My  good  woman,"  Clarenda  said,  controlling  her  wrath 
as  well  as  she  could,  "I  tell  you  once  for  all  that  I  am  not 
going  to  be  the  bride  of  your  master." 

"The  hen  is  not  heard  to  cackle  when  Chanticleer  is 
heard  to  crow,  as  the  saying  is,"  Deborah  commented 
calmly.  "I  have  known  Master  Flood  this  many  a  good 
year  and  I  know  that  the  wind  blows  to  his  whistle,  as  the 
saying  is." 

The  dogmatism  and  stolidity  of  the  good  woman  exas- 
perated Clarenda,  but  she  knew  that  with  such  a  personage 
patience  was  the  better  part  and  she  still  managed  to 
swallow  her  anger. 

"Listen  to  me,"  said  Clarenda,  speaking  her  words  with 
all  the  weight  she  could  command,  "and  consider  well  what 
I  say  to  you.  I  have  many  and  powerful  friends  who  will 
interest  themselves  in  my  case.  The  chief  of  them  you 
should  .surely  know  by  name.  I  mean  my  lord  Godal- 
ming." 

Deborah  Penfeather  nodded  her  head  in  dutiful  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  illustrious  name. 

"Oh,  aye,"  she  said  slowly,  "I  have  heard  of  him,  time 
and  again.  He  is  a  great  lord,  I  know,  and  he  is  an  old 
lord,  I  am  told.  They  say  that  there  is  no  fool  like  an 
old  fool,  but  it  is  not  for  me  to  make  so  bold  as  to  assert 
that  the  cap  fits  my  lord's  head." 

Clarenda  found  it  convenient  to  ignore  this  suggestion 
and  continued  her  argument. 

"When  my  lord  Godalming  knows  of  my  abduction  he 


DEBORAH  PENFEATHER  209 

will  be  swift  to  set  me  free,  and,  very  likely,  to  hang 
Master  Flood  for  his  rascality." 

"I  am  thinking,"  said  Deborah,  "that  it  will  not  be  so 
easy  for  his  lordship  to  learn  of  your  hiding-place,  and 
as  to  the  hanging  of  Master  Flood,  why  there  may  be  some 
folk  in  the  West  Country  that  would  have  a  word  to  say 
in  the  matter." 

Clarenda's  heart  sank  within  her  as  she  listened  to  the 
woman.  It  might  indeed  very  well  be  true  that  her  prison 
would  prove  hard  to  break.  She  nerved  herself  for  an- 
other effort  against  the  impassibility  of  Deborah  Pen- 
feather. 

"I  can  promise  you,"  she  tempted,  "more  money  than 
you  have  ever  seen  in  your  life,  as  much  money  as  will 
keep  you  and  yours  in  ease  for  the  rest  of  your  lives,  if 
you  will  either  aid  me  to  escape  from  this  place,  or  at  least 
help  me  to  convey  a  message  to  my  friends." 

Deborah  did  not  seem  either  allured  or  offended  by 
Clarenda's  proposal,  which  she  received  with  her  habitual 
philosophic  calm. 

"If  you  were  to  pile  me  a  pile  of  gold  as  high  as  this 
castle,"  she  answered,  "I  would  not  say  a  word  or  do  a 
thing  against  the  will  of  Master  Flood.  So  you  may  keep 
your  breath  to  cool  your  porridge,  as  the  saying  is." 

"You  are  sharing  in  a  crime,"  Clarenda  warned  her,  "you 
are  abettirfg  this  man  in  his  villainy.  When  he  comes  to  be 
punished  you  may  have  to  share  his  punishment." 

"I  know  nothing  of  all  that,"  answered  Deborah.  "All 
I  know  is  that  Master  Flood  has  set  me  here  to  tend  your 
ladyship  and  to  do  your  will  in  all  things  serviceable,  save 
and  except  those  things  that  you  would  have  me  do.  The 
trusty  dog  has  but  one  master,  as  the  saying  is." 

Clarenda  knew  enough  of  human  nature  to  recognise 
that  the  fidelity  of  the  woman  was  impregnable,  and  she 
decided  to  waste  no  more  time  in  a  futile  enterprise.  She 
turned  baffled  and  furious  to  quit  the  room.  Deborah  spoke 
again. 

"If  you  have  any  need  of  me  you  have  but  to  call  and 
I  will  wait  upon  you.  And  whenever  you  are  weary  I 
will  help  you  to  your  bed."  Then,  as  Clarenda  vanished, 
she  seated  herself  and  composedly  resumed  her  knitting. 


210  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

When  she  found  herself  back  in  the  great  room  again, 
and  staring  in  the  bright  summer  twilight  at  the  glittering, 
unwinking  picture  of  the  great  Queen,  Clarenda  felt  chill 
as  if  she  were  some  child  in  a  tale  penned  in  an  ogre's 
castle.  An  inward  gnawing  of  appetite  seemed  to  warn 
her  that  it  was  her  duty  to  fortify  herself  against  her 
unhappy  condition  if  only  that  she  might  be  ready  when 
redemption  came  to  greet  redemption  heartily.  Also  she 
must  keep  alert  in  health  and  strength  that  when  the  time 
came  she  might  have  the  necessary  energy  to  exult  over 
her  abductor.  Perhaps  indeed  all  these  specious  argu- 
ments were  in  reality  no  more  than  so  many  concessions 
to  hunger.  At  least  the  consequence  of  them  was  that 
Clarenda  now  with  an  almost  animal  swiftness  and  vehe- 
mence pounced  upon  the  viands  that  through  her  own  wilful- 
ness  littered  the  floor,  and  seizing  a  manchet  of  bread  and 
tearing  a  limb  from  a  chicken  she  squatted  in  a  huddle  on 
the  floor  and  began  quite  ravenously  and  in  quite  a  savage 
fashion  to  make  a  meal. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A   PARLEY 

AT  the  hour  of  eleven  next  morning  Hercules  presented 
himself  at  the  door  of  the  great  chamber  and  requested 
permission  to  enter.  The  door  was  unbolted  by  Gammer 
Pen  feather,  who  dropped  her  master  a  respectful  curtsey. 
Hercules  glanced  around  him.  Clarenda  was  not  in  the 
room,  which  had  been  carefully  tidied  by  the  serving-woman 
and  showed  no  traces  of  the  turmoil  of  the  previous  eve- 
ning. 

"How  does  Mistress  Constant  find  herself  this  morn- 
ing?" was  Hercules'  first  enquiry. 

"The  young  lady  slept  well,"  Deborah  replied,  "and  the 
young  lady  slept  long,  which  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  for 
she  came  to  bed  late,  and  she  must  have  passed  a  wearing 
day." 

She  said  this  with  no  hint  of  reproach  or  reproof  in 
her  voice  but  merely  as  a  comment  upon  an  obvious  fact. 
To  Deborah  Penfeather  as  to  Deborah  Penfeather's  hus- 
band, and  to  all  Jasper  Penfeather's  co-mates,  whatever 
Master  Flood  was  pleased  to  do  was  necessarily  right  and 
whatever  Master  Flood  might  be  pleased  to  command  must 
be  unquestioningly  obeyed. 

"Is  Mistress  Constant  awake  now?"  Hercules  asked. 
The  woman  nodded.  "Will  you  then,"  he  continued,  "ask 
Mistress  Constant  if  she  will  be  so  good  as  to  let  me 
know  at  what  hour  it  may  suit  her  to  permit  me  to  wait 
upon  her." 

Whatever  Gammer  Penfeather  may  have  thought  of 
the  formality  and  politeness  of  Hercules'  request  and 
whatever  surprise  she  may  have  felt  at  his  condescending 
to  entreat  where  it  was  in  his  power  to  command,  she 
allowed  no  sign  of  any  emotion  to  trouble  the  composure 
of  her  countenance.  With  another  curtsey  she  disap- 


212  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

peared  into  the  adjoining  bedroom.  Hercules  slowly  paced 
up  and  down  the  great  hall  wondering  a  little,  but  not  over- 
much, as  to  the  mood  in  which  Clarenda  would  be  if  she 
consented  to  receive  him.  It  was  never  his  way  to  waste 
time  in  speculation  as  to  events  that  must  necessarily  un- 
fold themselves  speedily.  Nor  did  he  dissipate  the  vigour 
of  his  mind  in  consideration  of  the  possible  consequences  of 
his  conduct.  He  had  done  a  bold  and  a  daring  thing  in 
carrying  this  girl  off,  but  he  had  done  it  deliberately,  be- 
cause it  had  seemed  to  him  the  best  thing  to  do. 

In  less  than  a  minute  Deborah  returned  with  the  in- 
telligence that  Mistress  Clarenda  would  be  with  Hercules 
in  a  very  little  while  as  she  had  nearly  completed  her  dress- 
ing. Hercules'  enquired  anxiously  if  she  had  broken  her 
fast  and  was  reassured  to  learn  that  the  young  lady  had 
done  so,  satisfactorily,  substantiajly  and  with  apparent 
relish.  Hercules  looked  approval  and  in  his  mind  com- 
mended Clarenda  for  proving  herself  to  be  the  sensible 
young  woman  he  had  always  believed  her  to  be  essen- 
tially. 

In  another  minute  Clarenda  entered  the  room.  She  was 
looking  exceedingly  handsome,  he  thought,  as  he  advanced 
to  greet  her.  Rest  and  food  had  removed  all  traces  from 
her  face  of  the  passion  that  had  ravaged  it  yesternight. 
With  the  aid  of  Goody  Deborah  Penfeather  she  had  re- 
paired such  injury  and  removed  such  stain  as  forced  and 
violent  travel  had  inflicted  upon  her  person  and  she  looked 
as  comely  and  as  composed  as  if  she  were  queening  it  in 
the  orchard  of  "The  Golden  Hart"  instead  of  finding  her- 
self a  prisoner  in  a  castle  nameless  and  unknown  to  her. 

Hercules  dismissed  Gammer  Penfeather  with  a  gesture 
into  the  adjoining  room  and  placed  a  chair  for  Clarenda, 
who  accepted  it  with  a  grave  salutation  and  seated  herself 
with  an  air  of  quiet  dignity  which  pleased  him. 

"I  hope,"  said  Hercules  as  graciously  as  if  he  were  an 
ordinary  host  addressing  an  ordinary  guest,  "that  you  find 
yourself  refreshed  after  your  night's  rest?" 

"I  have  slept  well,"  replied  Clarenda  deliberately,  "and 
I  have  eaten  well,  whereby  I  have  indeed  gained  refresh- 
ment, and  with  the  consent  of  Heaven,  I  hope  to  eat  well 
and  to  sleep  well  so  long  as  I  am  held  here,  that  I  may 


A  PARLEY  213 

be  in  the  better  case  to  enjoy  my  freedom  when  it  comes." 

"Your  freedom  may  come  this  afternoon  or  to-morrow 
morning,  or  whenever  you  please,"  said  Hercules  earnestly. 
"It  is  but  your  promise  to  marry  me,  and  all  the  gates 
of  this  place  fly  open." 

"If  you  wait  on  my  promise  to  marry  you,"  said  Clarenda 
slowly,  "you  will  be  an  old  man  and  a  grey  man,  and 
then  you  will  find  that  you  are  but  at  the  beginning  of 
waiting.  If  you  had  wit  enough  to  guess  the  length  and 
breadth  of  my  hatred  of  you,  you  would  see  on  what  a 
fool's  errand  you  run,  but  you  have  not  so  much  wit  in 
all  your  bulk,  and  therefore  I  am  prepared  to  wait  upon 
God's  Providence." 

"I  wonder,"  said  Hercules  thoughtfully,  "why  you  profess 
to  hate  me  so?" 

"Do  you  indeed?"  retorted  Clarenda,  her  voice  a  very 
clarion  of  scorn.  "You  handle  a  well-born,  honourable 
maid  as  roughly  as  if  she  were  a  wanton.  Indeed  I  should 
have  thought  better  of  you  once  than  to  believe  that  you 
would  handle  a  wanton  so.  You  kidnap  me,  maltreat  me, 
insult  me,  imprison  me,  and  then  you  are  all  of  a  wonder 
because  I  am  not  kissing  your  feet." 

"You  misjudge  me,  lady,"  Hercules  answered  steadily. 
"As  to  the  question  of  ill-treatment,  I  would  leave  it  to 
your  finer  judgment  to  decide  which  of  us  has  the  worse 
treated  the  other." 

"Why,  you,  of  course,"  shrilled  the  maid,  but  Hercules 
waved  a  protesting  hand. 

"By  your  leave,"  he  said,  "I  would  ask  you  to  con- 
sider. You  were  pleased,  in  your  capriciousness,  to  set 
your  heart  upon  my  house." 

"And  you  were  pleased,"  Clarenda  riposted,  "in  your 
capriciousness  to  pretend  to  pleasure  me,  when  all  the 
while  you  were  making  me  bend  to  your  pitiful  conditions." 

"I  found  you  very  fair,"  Hercules  said  simply,  "and  I 
longed  for  your  company." 

"I  did  not  long  for  yours,  I  promise  you,"  Clarenda 
cried,  a  little  shaken  in  her  equanimity  by  her  rising  anger. 
"I  hated  you  for  your  mulish  whim,  for  your  brutal  ob- 
stinacy. I  wanted  to  punish  you  for  your  stubbornness. 
But  I  thought  I  was  punishing  the  stubbornness  of  a  gen* 


214  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

tleman.  I  did  not  dream  that  I  was  placing  myself  at 
the  mercy  of  a  savage." 

For  a  moment  a  flush  of  blood  deepened  the  weather- 
burn  of  Hercules'  cheeks.  But  his  voice  was  as  steady  as 
before  when  he  made  answer. 

"I  take  note,"  he  said,  "that  your  friends  and  you  make 
a  great  deal  of  play  with  that  same  word  'gentleman.' 
Under  cover  of  that  word  certain  friends  of  yours  per- 
mitted themselves,  and  were  permitted  by  you" — Clarenda 
strove  to  interrupt  with  a  vehement  "No,  no,"  but  Hercules 
continued,  without  heeding  her  attempt — "to  be  grossly 
offensive  towards  a  simple  stranger  whose  only  fault  was 
his  readiness  to  comply  with  your  vagaries." 

"I  could  explain "  Clarenda  began,  at  once  honest 

and  angry.  But  Hercules  shook  his  head. 

"The  event,"  he  said,  "was  its  own  explanation.  The 
gentlemen  were  there  with  your  permission  and  they  were 
pleased  to  make  merry  at  my  expense,  and  later  I  was 
pleased  to  make  merry  at  their  expense  and  so  we  could 
afford  to  cry  quits.  But  between  you  and  me  the  matter 
is  different.  You  must  not  believe  that  I  would  make 
you  my  prisoner  thus  for  the  sake  of  a  silly  jest.  If  that 
were  all  there  was  to  it,  I  should  have  said  you  good-bye 
with  a  light  heart." 

"What  more  was  there  to  it?"  Clarenda  asked  in  a 
low  voice,  as  if  she  were  unwilling  to  think  the  question 
that  she  felt  compelled  to  ask. 

"There  was  this  much  more  to  it,"  continued  Hercules, 
"that  you  knew  very  well  that  I  loved  you  and  that,  know- 
ing as  you  did  of  my  love,  you  deliberately  encouraged 
it " 

"No,  no,"  came  again  from  Clarenda,  on  a  note  a  little 
fainter  than  before. 

"And  not  only  did  you  encourage  me  in  my  wooing, 
but  you  gave  me  to  believe  that  the  love  I  proffered  you 
were  not  unwilling  to  return." 

"No,  no,"  protested  Clarenda  again,  but  this  time  her 
protesting  voice  was  almost  inaudible. 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  Hercules  positively.  "The  thing  is 
so  and  you  cannot  escape  from  it.  Come,  you  and  your 
friends  have  stabbed  at  me  with  that  word  'gentleman' 


A  PARLEY  215 

often  enough.  It  would  seem  that  because  you  chose  to 
take  me  for  a  clown  you  were  free  to  make  what  use  of 
my  heart  you  pleased " 

"Your  heart !"  interrupted  Clarenda  contemptuously,  with 
a  bitter  twist  of  her  lips. 

"Yes,  my  heart,"  persisted  Hercules,  "my  honest  heart, 
my  man's  heart  that  I  was  ready  to  lay  at  your  feet,  but 
not  for  you  to  trample  on  or  play  foot  football  with.  You 
see  I  took  you,  in  spite  of  your  faults " 

"My  faults,"  squalled  Clarenda,  roused  from  her  en- 
forced restraint  and  glaring  at  him  with  flaming  cheeks 
and  blazing  eyes,  "my  faults  !" 

"Even  so,"  said  Hercules  coolly,  "your  faults.  Dear  maid, 
you  do  not  surely  esteem  yourself  faultless.  I  could  make 
you  a  catalogue  that  might  amaze  you.  I  never  esteemed 
you  faultless.  I  never  took  you  for  an  angel — such  prodi- 
gies do  not  walk  our  common  earth — but,  at  least,  I  took 
you  for  a  gentlewoman." 

"How  dare  you  speak  to  me  after  this  fashion?"  cried 
Clarenda,  half  rising  from  her  chair  in  her  rage.  Then 
she  remembered  her  helplessness  and  sank  back  again. 

"I  thought  you  were  a  gentlewoman,"  Hercules  went 
on  as  steadily  as  if  she  had  not  sought  to  interrupt,  "and 
I  still  think  you  are  a  gentlewoman.  That  indeed  is  why 
you  are  here.  If  you  were  merely  the  heartless,  thoughtless, 
soulless  baggage  that  others  in  my  case  might  believe  you 
to  be,  I  promise  you  that  I  should  not  have  wasted  an- 
other thought  or  act  upon  you." 

Clarenda  was  so  staggered  by  the  man's  assurance  that 
she  gaped  at  him  in  amazement.  Here  was  indeed  a  mad 
manner  of  justification.  But  she  did  not  speak  or  strive 
to  speak  and  Hercules  went  doggedly  on. 

"It  is  because  I  still  esteem  you  a  gentlewoman,  because 
I  still  hold  you  honest  in  heart  and  clean  in  mind  that  I 
have  been  at  the  pains  to  carry  you  hither.  You  must  not 
allow  yourself  to  believe  that  I  never  beheld  a  fair  woman 
before  I  saw  your  face,  or  that  I  would  childishly  assert 
that  there  is  no  other  fair  woman  in  the  world.  But  I 
do  believe  that  there  is  no  other  woman  in  the  world  for 
me,  just  as  I  honestly  believe  that  there  is  not  and  cannot 
be  any  other  man  in  the  world  for  you." 


216  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

By  this  time  Clarenda  was  so  angry  at  his  arrogance 
that  she  would  have  liked  to  bite  and  scratch  him,  yet 
she  listened  to  his  insolence  with  a  fascination  that  was 
akin  to  stupefaction. 

"I  refuse,"  pursued  Hercules,  "to  credit  that  a  woman 
like  you  could,  for  the  gratification  of  a  petty  spite,  stoop 
so  meanly  as  to  deceive  and  trick  and  cheat  a  man  like 
me." 

He  said  this  so  simply  that  Clarenda,  even  in  the  white 
heat  of  her  fury,  could  not,  as  she  looked  at  him  and  saw 
how  proper  a  man  he  was,  brand  him  with  vanity.  He 
was,  as  she  had  to  admit  to  herself  reluctantly,  only  giving 
himself  his  due  and  even  less  than  his  due.  But  she  made 
no  such  admission  public  either  by  word  or  look,  but  sat 
watching  him  steadfastly,  silently. 

"All  love-making  is  a  kind  of  duello,"  Hercules  went  on. 
"but  all  duellos  are  governed  by  honourable  laws  for  hon- 
ourable combatants  and  the  duello  of  man  and  woman  is 
no  exception  to  this  commendable  ordinance.  You  will  not 
assert  that  you  played  the  wanton's  part  with  me,  alluring 
merely  to  flout,  inviting  only  to  betray.  When  you  saw 
that  I  loved  you  as  a  true  man  should  love  a  fair  maid, 
you  gave  no  sign  that  my  love  was  not  welcome  to  you. 
Wherefore  I  was  free  to  assume  that  my  love  was  welcome 
to  you." 

"I  know  not  what  you  assumed,"  said  Clarenda  furiously, 
"and  I  care  not  what  you  assumed.  But  it  seems  to  me, 
and  surely  it  must  seem  to  you  who  call  yourself  a  man  of 
sense,  that  you  are  making  a  great  deal  out  of  a  very 
little  matter." 

"How,  pray,  do  you  discover  that?"  asked  Hercules 
blandly.  "May  it  please  you  elucidate,  for  I  hope  I  have 
an  open  mind  to  argument." 

"Let  us  suppose,"  said  Clarenda  rapidly,  "that  I  had 
the  skittishness — to  call  it  by  a  mild  name — or  the  vicious- 
ness — to  call  it  by  a  strong  name — which  urged  me  to 
play  the  part  of  temptress  to  one  that  seemed  to  pride 
himself  on  his  invulnerability  to  temptation,  this  were  surely 
a  trifle  to  move  a  strong  man  to  vengeance?" 

"That  were  indeed  a  trifle,"  Hercules  conceded  tran- 
quilly, "if  that  were  all.  But  you  seem  to  forget,  in  the 


A  PARLEY  217 

first  place,  that  you  set  a  trap  for  me,  to  make  me  the 
staring-stock  of  your  friends." 

"Ah,  this  is  pride,"  cried  Clarenda,  "wounded  pride, 
not  wounded  love." 

"And  in  the  second  place,"  Hercules  continued,  "you 
seem  to  forget  that  while  you  encouraged  my  honest  suit, 
you  were  all  the  time  the  pledged  bride  of  another  man 
and  kept  your  betrothal  secret  from  me." 

Clarenda  said  nothing,  for  indeed  she  had  nothing  to 
say. 

"Now  I  do  not  believe,"  Hercules  asserted,  "and  I  am 
sure  that  you  would  not  have  me  believe,  that  you  were 
ready  so  to  wrong  an  honourable  man  like  my  lord  of 
Godalming  as  to  let  another  man  make  love  to  you,  unless 
your  own  heart  very  strongly  urged  and  prompted  you 
to  such  a  course.  Am  I  not  right  in  this  surmise?" 

Clarenda  stared  at  him  with  raging  eyes.  It  maddened 
her  to  be  so  set  in  the  wrong  by  her  enemy. 

"I  shall  not  answer  you,"  she  cried,  "you  have  no  right 
to  question  my  actions.  But  if  you  believe  evil  of  me 
why  do  you  seek  to  marry  me?" 

"By  your  leave,"  said  Hercules,  "I*  have  just  told  you 
that  I  do  not  believe  evil  of  you.  I  want  to  marry  you 
because  I  believe  you  are  at  heart  a  good  and  honest 
maid,  and  because  I  believe  that  I  am  the  right  man  to 
marry  you,  and  to  help  your  goodness  and  your  honesty  to 
get  the  better  of  your  failings.  If  you  were  to  marry  my 
lord  of  Godalming — which  would  be,  in  itself,  a  sin  against 
nature — you  would  get  no  aid  to  your  betterment  from  an 
old  and  doting  man.  Nor  would  you  get  such  aid  from 
some  courtier,  that  is  more  of  a  mask  than  a  man.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  I  am  the  right  man  for  you." 

"You  the  right  man  for  me,"  she  repeated  scornfully, 
"you,  the  bully,  the  coward 

"Come,  come,"  interrupted  Hercules,  quite  good-hu- 
mouredly,  "let  us  ride  softly  over  rough  ground.  I  hold 
myself  to  be  no  more  of  a  bully  than  occasion  deserves, 
and  for  my  courage,  such  as  it  is,  I  am  content  to  refer 
you  to  the  merry  gentlemen  your  friends." 

"A  man  may  very  well  be  brave  with  men  and  yet  be 
brutal  to  a  woman,"  Clarenda  snapped. 


218  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"Brutality  is  not  necessarily  cowardice,"  Hercules  ob- 
served benignly,  "but  I  do  not  plead  guilty  to  brutality." 

"Yet  it  may  come  to  pass  that  you  hang  for  it,  none 
the  less,"  said  Clarenda  savagely.  Hercules  laughed  pleas- 
antly. 

"You  are  no  cheerful  prophetess,"  he  said,  "to  wish  a 
halter  for  your  husband." 

"You  are  not  my  husband,"  she  screamed.  "You  never 
will  be  my  husband." 

"I  think  otherwise,"  he  retorted  calmly.  "I  feel  con- 
fident that  Providence  has  set  us  two  together  to  be  friends 
and  lovers  and  mates.  I  know  you  are  the  woman  for  me 
and  I  know  that  I  am  the  man  for  you." 

"You  are  a  fool,  as  well  as  all  the  rest,"  said  Clarenda 
tersely.  Hercules  shook  his  head. 

"Not  such  a  fool  as  you  think.  I  know  you  not  a  little 
and  I  know  myself  not  a  little,  and  I  think  that  the  pair  of 
us  should  make  a  gallant  match.  I  am  no  more  your  elder 
than  a  man  should  be;  I  have  sufficient  health  and  suffi- 
cient strength  and  sufficient  wealth.  And  above  all  the 
rest,  I  love  you  dearly." 

Clarenda  looked  furiously  at  him  as  he  paused,  and  yet 
there  was  a  kind  of  twitching  at  her  heart  which  troubled 
her,  because  of  the  ringing  sincerity  of  the  man's  speech. 

"Yes,"  said  Hercules  simply,  "I  love  you  dearly.  That 
you  are  beautiful  any  piece  of  silvered  glass  will  assure 
you  better  than  my  tongue,  but  I  have  seen  a  many  fair 
women  in  all  the  quarters  of  the  globe,  and  never  a  one 
to  compare  with  you.  You  would  make  the  man  you  loved 
a  gallant  comrade  and  I  dare  to  swear  that  I  would  make 
the  woman  I  loved  a  loyal  lover.  Life  is  in  God's  hands  to 
control  its  course,  but  if  you  will  consent  to  take  me,  lady, 
I  think  that,  God  willing,  we  shall  live  in  very  sweet  amity 
together." 

Clarenda  was  very  angry  with  Hercules  for  delivering 
this  speech,  but  also  she  was  very  angry  with  herself  when 
she  found  that,  much  against  her  will,  she  had  been  con- 
strained to  listen  to  it  with  a  certain  degree  of  pleasure. 
It  was  spoken  with  such  a  manly  sincerity,  it  pleaded  the 
cause  of  his  love  with  such  earnestness  and  straightforward 
loyalty  that,  had  the  conditions  been  different,  Clarenda 


A  PARLEY  219 

was  fain  to  admit  that  she  would  have  been  willing  to  hear 
more  on  such  a  theme  from  such  a  pleader. 

But  the  conditions  were  not  different  and  they  seemed 
suddenly  to  become  yet  more  bitter  because  of  this  hint  of 
yielding  to  his  suit,  or  at  least  of  finding  a  measure  of 
satisfaction  in  listening  to  his  suit.  So  she  lashed  herself 
afresh  into  anger. 

"You  might  win  some  maids  with  your  cozening  speech," 
she  cried,  "but  you  shall  not  so  win  me.  If  there  were  a 
Holy  Book  in  this  room — though  indeed  it  were  strange 
to  find  a  Holy  Book  in  such  a  shameful  place — I  would 
swear  my  oath  upon  it  that  come  what  may  come,  I  would 
never  marry  you,  never  forgive  you,  never  know  rest  or 
content  again  until  I  were  quittingly  revenged  upon  you." 

Hercules  looked  at  the  raging  girl  in  a  rapture  of  admira- 
tion. She  showed  so  splendidly  handsome  in  her  anger 
that  he  found  himself  unable  to  regret  the  fierceness  of 
her  temper  when  he  saw  that  it  served  her  beauty  so  well. 

"I  hope  you  will  change  your  mind,"  he  said.  "I  think 
that  you  will  change  you  mind,  but  I  protest  that  I  like 
your  warmth.  A  man  like  me  would  not  wish  for  a  wife 
without  a  proper  spirit.  As  I  happen  to  be  a  fellow  of 
a  somewhat  even  temper  you  will  bring  to  our  alliance  a 
pinch  or  so  of  wholesome  necessary  vehemence  which  will 
be  good  for  both  of  us." 

Clarenda  felt  that  she  had  said  all  she  could  say  and 
that  there  were  no  words  left  to  her  in  which  to  emphasise 
further  her  abhorrence  of  her  host,  who  was  now  galling 
her  afresh  by  treating  her  fierce  repudiation  so  lightly  and 
by  persisting  in  speaking  as  if  she  and  he  were  plighted 
folk.  But  while  she  was  casting  about  for  terms  of  scorn 
and  finding  none  to  her  mind,  Hercules,  realising  that  his 
usual  time  had  expired,  saluted  her  and  left  her  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

ALARMS  AND  EXCURSIONS 

A  LTHOUGH  "The  Golden  Hart"  had  lost  its  Mistress- 
2\.  master,  its  crew — to  continue  the  metaphor — were  in 
happy  ignorance  of  the  loss.  The  fact  that  Clarenda  did 
not  make  an  appearance  for  the  mid-day  dinner  gave  her 
servants  no  surprise.  They  knew  her  to  be  erratic,  heed- 
less of  punctualities  and  formalities,  and  they  fed  them- 
selves, untroubled  by  her  absence.  When,  however,  more 
than  an  hour  had  passed  since  the  ship's  bell  had  been 
sounded  to  announce  the  meal,  Clarenda's  eminently  re- 
spectable housekeeper,  Mistress  Gannett,  that  had  been  a 
mayor's  lady,  began  to  feel  a  little  restless  at  the  delay  and 
to  ask  herself  if  her  somewhat  troublesome  charge  could 
have  fallen  asleep  in  her  orchard  retreat,  or  even  have 
fainted  from  the  heat,  seeing  that  the  day  was  very  warm. 
So  she  swayed  slowly  and  solemnly,  being  a  portly  person- 
age, out  of  "The  Golden  Hart"  and  through  a  succession  of 
parti-coloured  gardens  till  she  arrived,  panting  a  little,  in 
spite  of  the  leisure  of  her  progress,  at  the  orchard  close 
only  to  find  it  tenantless.  The  silken  cushions  piled  the 
rustic  seat,  but  no  fair  figure  crushed  their  softness.  The 
folio  of  classic  fables  lay  in  its  place,  waiting  for  the 
bright  face  to  bend  over  it,  all  eagerness  and  smiles.  The 
abandoned  lute  lay  upon  the  grass,  longing  surely  for 
those  dear  hands  to  fondle  it  into  surrender  of  ravishing 
harmonies. 

Good  Mistress  Gannett  did  not  think  such  thoughts.  She 
did  not  trouble  her  mind  further  than  to  assure  herself 
that  her  mistress  was  not  in  her  familiar  place,  nor  indeed 
in  any  other  part  of  the  orchard.  Perplexed,  but  not  ex- 
travagantly so,  she  retraced  her  steps  with  the  same  deco- 
rous sloth,  chewing  as  she  went  a  few  sensible  reflections 
on  the  vagaries  of  young  ladies.  As  she  trod  the  turf  in 


ALARMS  AND  EXCURSIONS  221 

front  of  the  land-ship  one  of  the  male  servants,  who  was 
evidently  awaiting  her  return,  hurried  forward  to  meet  her 
and  informed  her  that  there  was  a  youth  at  hand  who 
desired  to  speak  with  her.  As  the  servant  spoke  he  beckoned 
and  Mistress  Gannett,  following  the  direction  of  his  gesture, 
beheld  a  sheepish,  open-faced,  sunburnt  youth  in  a  sea- 
faring habit,  who  on  the  servant's  invitation  now  came 
lurching  towards  her,  and  after  making  an  awkward  saluta- 
tion, asked  if  she  were  Mistress  Gannett.  Mistress  Gan- 
nett nodded. 

"A  lady  spoke  to  me  in  the  town  awhile  ago,"  the  lad 
said,  "and  gave  me  a  silver  piece" — he  opened  a  brown 
hand  as  he  spoke  and  showed  the  coin  reposing  there  in 
witness  to  his  tale — "and  told  me  to  go  to  Flood's  Folly 
and  tell  Mistress  Gannett  that  she  had  gone  over  to  King's 
Welcome  for  a  few  days,  and  that  Mistress  Gannett  was  to 
keep  everything  in  work-a-day  order  until  her  return." 

Mistress  Gannett  was  not  exactly  taken  aback  by  this 
unexpected  message,  but  she  was  certainly  a  little  annoyed 
at  this  flagrant  proof  of  Clarenda's  Mightiness.  "Really," 
she  reflected,  "one  who  had  been  in  her  time  a  mayoress 
of  Plymouth  was  entitled  to  a  little  more  consideration  from 
a  girl  who  might  almost  have  been  her  grandchild,  fine 
Court  lady  though  she  was."  But  she  manifested  no  more 
of  this  feeling  than  an  impatient  "Tut,  tut!"  which  she 
followed  up  by  asking  the  lad  if  he  would  like  a  glass  of  ale 
for  his  pains.  As  the  lad  responded  very  heartily  that 
there  was  nothing  he  would  like  better  he  was  favoured 
with  this  refreshment.  Between  his  draughts  he  explained 
to  his  hostess  that  he  was  cabin-boy  on  a  ship  that  had 
just  come  into  port,  that  he  was  a  stranger  to  Plymouth, 
and  that  in  all  his  travels  he  had  never  seen  anything  so 
strange  as  "The  Golden  Hart."  Therewith  he  finished  his 
liquor  and  after  again  saluting  Mistress  Gannett  went  his 
way  back  to  the  town  and  his  ship  in  great  seeming  of 
contentment. 

He  did  not  leave  Mistress  Gannett  in  great  contentment, 
however.  It  is  true  that  any  slight  anxiety  she  might  have 
felt  about  her  eccentric  young  mistress  was  banished  from 
her  mind,  but  her  own  sense  of  dignity  and  importance  was 
sadly  ruffled.  She  fumed  in  private  for  a  while  and  it 


222  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

took  a  good  hour  or  so  to  restore  her  to  habitual  self- 
complacence. 

When  she  was  herself  again  Mistress  Gannett  at  first 
found  a  certain  pleasure  in  her  position.  Isolated  by  the 
absence  of  Clarenda  she  became  for  the  time  being  the 
mistress  of  the  land-ship,  and  she  enjoyed  for  a  while  a 
sense  of  lonely  pomp,  though  she  could  have  wished  to 
enjoy  it  in  a  less  outlandish  habitation.  She  would  have 
rejoiced  to  be  in  command  at  King's  Welcome,  for  instance, 
but  "The  Golden  Hart"  seemed,  to  orderly  and  work-a- 
day  commonsense,  too  foolish  a  place  to  be  endured  without 
an  extravagant  expenditure  of  patience  and  good  humour. 
Still  she  had  to  admit  that  she  was  in  very  comfortable 
quarters  and  she  exercised  her,  for  the  time,  undivided 
authority  with  the  manner  of  one  who  never  forgot  that 
golden  mayoralty  of  the  past. 

So  the  first  day  passed  in  tranquillity,  for  there  was 
less  noise  in  "The  Golden  Hart"  now  that  Clarenda  was 
no  longer  present,  running  here,  there  and  everywhere, 
always  singing  or  playing  or  laughing  in  the  exuberance  of 
her  young  moods.  A  second  day  flushed  and  faded  like 
the  first  and  a  spirit  of  drowsiness  seemed  to  have  settled 
upon  the  land-ship.  But  when  a  third  day  had  passed  in 
its  turn,  Mistress  Gannett  began  to  feel  that  the,  at  first, 
so  welcome  repose  began  to  grow  a  trifle  oppressive  and 
that  she  herself  was  finding  her  situation  a  little  dull. 

Thus  deeming  her  immediate  existence  tedious  Mistress 
Gannett  began  to  get  restless.  She  missed  the  buoyancy, 
the  exhilaration,  the  clash  of  whims  and  fancies  that 
Clarenda  carried  with  her,  and  which,  while  she  was  in  the 
vortex  of  their  play,  Mistress  Gannett  had  often  enough 
dratted  beneath  her  breath.  So  she  began  to  fidget,  to 
move  uneasily  about  the  queer  house,  and  to  spend  time 
foolishly  enough  in  vain  computations  as  to  the  possible 
date  of  the  errant  young  lady's  return.  In  a  little  while 
she  began  to  feel  that  it  was  really  imperative  that  she 
should  have  some  precise  information  on  this  point,  and  that 
she  could  not  do  better  than  to  set  out  to  garner  the  de- 
sired knowledge  for  herself.  After  all,  it  was  no  great 
ways  to  King's  Welcome.  You  had  but  to  walk  a  mile 
or  so  of  high  road  to  reach  the  humming  town  which  to  the 


ALARMS  AND  EXCURSIONS  223 

heart  of  Mistress  Gannett  was  easily  the  best  among  the 
habitations  of  men.  Then  you  crossed  the  town  and  mount- 
ing a  little  you  found  yourself  at  the  lodge-gates  of  King's 
Welcome. 

It  took  Mistress  Gannett  some  time  to  come  to  a  decision 
on  a  matter  so  momentous,  but  having  once  come  to  it 
she  was  earnest  to  put  it  into  execution.  So  she  donned 
stout  shoes,  hooded  herself,  handled  her  staff  and  telling 
her  subordinates  no  more  than  that  she  was  taking  the  air 
for  a  spell,  set  off  on  her  pilgrimage. 

It  was  a  pleasant  day  and  Mistress  Gannett  was  by  habit 
a  placid  woman  who  took  all  things  leisurely,  including 
country  walks.  So  she  waded  slowly  through  the  circum- 
ambient air,  sniffing  the  kindly  savour  of  grass  and  flower 
with  the  familiar  animal  satisfaction  of  one  that  is  country 
born  and  bred.  It  was  with  a  much  more  conscious  satis- 
faction that  she  quitted  the  open  country  and  found  her- 
self treading  the  cobble-stones  of  the  narrow  streets  of 
Plymouth  and  nosing  the  sharp  savour  of  the  sea.  Plymouth 
was  her  idol ;  in  Plymouth  she  had  tasted  what  she  believed 
to  be  greatness ;  in  Plymouth  she  was  still  accounted  one  of 
its  most  estimable  and  reputable  citizenesses. 

She  had  left  Plymouth  reluctantly  to  share  with  a 
humorous  young  lady  the  humours  of  "The  Golden  Hart." 
Now  as  she  walked  its  ways  again  she  found  herself  wishing 
very  heartily  that  she  were  returning  to  her  own  modest 
lodgement.  But  as  this  was  not  to  be  thought  of  for  the 
moment,  she  continued  her  journey,  exchanging  nods  and 
greetings  with  familiar  faces  and  pausing,  every  once  in  a 
way,  to  taste  a  bit  of  local  gossip.  So  tranquilly  she  tra- 
versed the  town  and  had  scarcely  left  the  last  fringe  of  its 
dwelling-places  behind  her  before  she  found  herself  face 
to  face  with  the  gaunt  grey  walls  and  grim  iron  gates  of 
King's  Welcome. 

Here  tranquillity,  that  had  armed  her  thus  far  at  a  gentle 
amble,  promptly  abandoned  her,  not  to  return  for  many  an 
anxious  hour. 

A  man  and  a  boy  were  coming  forth  from  the  gates,  and 
Mistress  Gannett  knew  the  pair  well  enough.  The  man  was 
Master  Sandys,  and  the  lad  was  the  lodge-keeper's  son. 
Master  Sandys,  having  plenty  of  time  on  his  hands  since 


224  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Clarenda  quitted  King's  Welcome,  allowed  himself  the 
liberty  of  a  great  deal  of  rambling  abroad,  to  find  in  the 
study  of  the  flora  and  fauna  of  Devon  a  relaxation  from 
certain  optical  experiments  which  occupied  the  major  part 
of  his  day.  He  was  frequently  accompanied  on  his  wander- 
ings by  the  lodge-keeper's  son,  Jenkin,  a  lad  of  a  lively 
intelligence  that  knew  the  countryside  by  heart.  Master 
Sandys  now  paused  and  saluted. 

"Good  day  to  you,  Mistress  Gannett,"  he  said  affably, 
for  he  shared  in  the  general  respect  that  Plymouth  accorded 
to  the  good  woman.  He  motioned  to  the  lad  to  run  on 
ahead  while  he  paused  for  a  chat  with  the  visitor.  "What 
brings  you  this  day  to  King's  Welcome?" 

"No  great  matter,"  Mistress  Gannett  replied  evenly.  "I 
did  but  come  over  to  enquire  after  Mistress  Constant  and 
to  learn  her  commands." 

Master  Sandys  stared  at  Mistress  Gannett  with  an  ex- 
pression of  the  widest  surprise. 

"Why  do  you  travel  so  far  afield  for  your  purpose?" 
he  asked.  "Have  you  not  got  Mistress  Constant  under 
hatches,  as  it  were,  at  Flood's  Folly  yonder?" 

Mistress  Gannett  felt  a  sudden  sinking  in  the  pit  of  her 
stomach  and  a  sudden  fluttering  of  the  heart. 

"Is  not  Mistress  Constant  at  King's  Welcome  ?"  she  asked, 
and  her  startled  voice  sounded  queer  and  unfamiliar  in 
her  ears.  "When  did  she  leave  it?" 

Master  Sandys  stared  at  her  with  a  puzzled  forehead. 

"What  has  come  over  you,  Mistress  Gannett?  You 
know  as  well  as  I  do  when  Mistress  Constant  quitted  King's 
Welcome,  for  you  accompanied  her  departure." 

Mistress  Gannett  turned  so  white  and  looked  so  very 
much  as  if  she  were  about  to  fall  to  the  ground  in  a  fainting- 
fit that  the  young  man  stepped  promptly  forward  and 
caught  her  in  his  arms.  But  Mistress  Gannett  did  not 
faint.  The  dizziness  that  had  assailed  her  with  that  sud- 
den shock  dissipated  and  her  common  sense  assured  her 
that  she  had  best  keep  all  her  wits  about  her.  She  quietly 
disengaged  herself  from  the  hook  of  Master  Sandys'  sup- 
porting elbow. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  she  asked,  with  a  voice  that 
was  firmer  now,  though  it  still  quavered  a  little,  "that 


ALARMS  AND  EXCURSIONS  225 

Mistress  Clarenda  Constant  did  not  come  hither  four  days 
ago  to  make  a  short  stay  with  her  ladyship?" 

Master  Sandys  shook  his  head  emphatically. 

"Mistress  Constant  has  not  passed  these  gates,"  he  pro- 
tested, "since  the  day  she  fared  in  your  fellowship  to  the 
mad  land-ship." 

Mistress  Gannett  could  have  reeled  again  at  this  infor- 
mation if  the  core  of  sound  sense  in  her  comfortable  body 
had  not  assured  her  that  this  was  no  time  for  such  cantrips. 

"I  must  see  my  lady  Gylford  at  once,"  she  insisted.  "I 
do  not  understand  what  has  happened,  but  it  can  be  no 
good  happening.  I  must  see  my  lady  at  once." 

And  as  she  spoke  the  good  woman,  with  her  heart  in 
her  mouth,  pushed  past  Master  Sandys  and  hurried  up  the 
avenue  of  elms  at  a  greater  speed  than  the  widow  of 
Plymouth's  mayor  had  been  known  to  take  these  ten  years. 

Master  Sandys  looked  after  her,  thus  bustling  in  un- 
familiar scurry,  with  a  sigh  of  apprehension.  For  all  his 
scholarship  he  had  a  very  tender  regard  for  the  beautiful 
Clarenda. 

"I  wonder  what  has  happened  to  Mistress  Constant?" 
he  muttered.  "It  must  be  something  serious  to  make 
Mistress  Gannett  consent  to  walk  three  miles  to  the  hour." 

Very  deliberately  he  decided  that  it  was  his  duty  as  well 
as  his  desire  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  Mistress  Gannett's 
agitation.  He  whistled  to  the  lodge-keeper's  son,  and 
having  informed  him,  to  his  great  disappointment,  that  he 
must  ramble  alone  that  afternoon,  he  turned  on  his  heel 
in  hot  pursuit  of  the  one-time  mayoress. 

But  long  before  Master  Sandys  could  catch  her  up, 
Mistress  Gannett,  pursuing  what  was  for  her  a  headlong 
pace  up  the  avenue,  found  herself  at  the  massive  doors  of 
King's  Welcome.  She  straightway  banged  such  a  volley 
upon  the  oak  as  might  very  well  have  suggested  to  those 
within  that  once  again  a  sovereign  prince  deigned  to  visit 
the  ancient  hall  and  demand  the  historic  welcome.  The 
doors  had  scarcely  been  opened  an  inch  when  Mistress 
Gannett  breathed  through  them  a  demand  to  be  conducted 
at  once  to  the  presence  of  my  lady  Gylford.  But  the 
porter,  drawing  a  long  face  and  shaking  a  solemn  head, 
rebuffed  the  impatient  visitor.  My  lady  had,  it  seemed, 


226  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

taken  to  her  bed  with  a  cold,  and  would  be  too  busy  minister- 
ing to  her  sneezing  and  her  coughing  and  her  spitting  to 
welcome  gentle  or  simple.  Mistress  Gannett  was  not  to 
be  so  put  off. 

"Tell  her  ladyship,"  she  said  peremptorily,  "that  I  come 
to  her  on  an  urgent  matter  concerning  her  ward,  Mistress 
Clarenda  Constant,  which  does  not  brook  the  delay  of  as 
much  as  a  moment.  Be  assured  therefore,  fellow,  that 
you  stand  between  me  and  audience  of  my  lady  at  your 
peril." 

The  door-keeper  was  too  much  abashed  at  the  sturdiness 
of  Mistress  Gannett's  carriage  to  oppose  her  with  further 
denial. 

"You  must  take  it  on  yourself,  then,"  he  grumbled  sulkily, 
"and  absolve  me  if  I  come  into  displeasure  with  her  lady- 
ship for  disturbing  her  in  her  sick-bed." 

But  even  as  he  spoke,  because  he  knew  well  enough  the 
importance  of  Clarenda  and  her  welfare  to  the  wardress  of 
King's  Welcome,  he  was  moving  from  his  haunt  and  bawling 
for  a  maid  to  carry  a  message  to  my  lady  of  Gylford. 

A  maid  was  soon  found  and  despatched  to  return  very 
swiftly  with  a  summons  to  Mistress  Gannett  to  follow  her 
instantly  into  the  presence  of  her  ladyship.  Mistress  Gan- 
nett so  following,  with  throbbing  pulses,  presently  found 
herself  in  a  vast,  gaunt  oak-pannelled  bed-chamber,  with 
a  vast  bed  in  the  middle  of  its  desert,  like  a  catafalque, 
and  in  the  middle  of  that  vast  bed,  crowned  with  a  night- 
cap of  prodigious  dimensions  and  propped  by  innumerable 
pillows,  reposed  the  almost  mummified  relic  of  the  age  of 
the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold. 

While  Mistress  Gannett,  in  spite  of  her  anxiety,  had  suf- 
ficient control  over  her  emotions  to  pause  after  passing  the 
threshold  and  make  a  very  profound  obeisance,  the  with- 
ered old  body  on  the  bed  jerked  itself  upright,  the  withered 
old  face  protruded  from  its  bower  of  down  and  the  withered 
old  voice  asserted  itself  in  very  sharp  interrogation. 

"What  in  God's  name,"  she  asked  fiercely,  "have  you 
come  to  tell  me  about  this  little  she-devil?  What  new 
folly  has  she  committed  for  which  she  ought  to  be 
whipped  ?" 

"May  it  please  your  ladyship,"  said  Mistress  Gannett, 


ALARMS  AND  EXCURSIONS  227 

"I  do  not  know  what  Mistress  Constant  has  done  or  has 
not  done,  for  I  do  not  know  where  she  is." 

"What  in  the  devil's  name,"  cried  the  old  lady,  who 
was  somewhat  addicted  in  her  anger  to  mixing  her  invoca- 
tions, "is  your  meaning?  Is  not  the  mad  minion  who  has 
bewitched  my  kinsman  in  that  hellicate  landship  of  yours?" 

"It  is  none  of  mine,  your  ladyship,"  Mistress  Gannett 
replied  with  dignity,  "but  be  it  mine  or  be  it  thine  or  be 
it  whose  it  may,  Mistress  Constant  has  not  been  within 
its  walls  for  these  four  days  past." 

"For  these  four  days  past!"  echoed  the  old  lady  with 
a  scream,  "then  where  has  she  been  and  where  is  she  now  ? 
Tell  me  that,  if  you  please." 

"God  knows,"  said  Mistress  Gannett  solemnly,  "and 
God  also  knows  that  I  do  not  know.  All  I  know  is  that 
four  days  ago  there  came  a  strange  sailor  lad  to  the" — 
Mistress  Gannett  was  going  to  say  house  but  substituted 
another  word — "place  with  a  message  from  Mistress  Con- 
stant to  say  that  she  was  going  to  visit  your  ladyship  at 
King's  Welcome  for  a  few  days.  And  Mistress  Constant 
being,  if  I  may  say  so,  a  bit  flighty,  I  was  not  much  sur- 
prised at  the  tidings." 

"She  has  never  been  near  the  place!"  shrieked  my  lady. 
"What  can  have  happened  to  her,,  what  can  have  become 
of  her,  what  can  we  do  ?" 

If  Lady  Gylford  was  now  both  thoroughly  and  reasonably 
alarmed  by  the  news  which  Mistress  Gannett  had  carried, 
Mistress  Gannett,  on  her  side,  was  not  a  whit  less  perturbed 
and  distressed.  For  though  she  indeed  was  in  no  sense  so 
directly  responsible  for  the  care  and  safety  of  Clarenda 
as  my  lady  Gylford,  she  had  almost  unconsciously  developed 
an  affection  for  the  headstrong  maiden  which  was  much 
troubled  by  the  amazing  statement  of  the  wardress  of 
King's  Welcome.  Being  of  a  more  phlegmatic  tempera- 
ment than  her  ladyship  she  accepted  the  uncomfortable 
news  more  composedly.  So  there  was  a  brief  pause  dur- 
ing which  the  mental  processes  of  Mistress  Gannett  re- 
volved slowly  in  their  grooves  while  the  haggard  old  woman 
huddled  in  the  bed  stared  at  her  with  wild  eyes.  Presently 
Mistress  Gannett  spoke. 

"If  I  may  make  so  bold  as  to  advise  your  ladyship,  I 


228  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

think  it  would  not  be  amiss  for  us  to  get  a  man's  mind 
and  a  man's  hand  to  help  us  in  this  trouble.  God  alone 
knows  what  has  come  to  Mistress  Constant,  but  if  she  is 
to  be  found  she  must  be  looked  for  by  active  seekers, 
and  you  and  I,  your  ladyship,  if  I  may  say  so  without 
offence,  are  a  little  past  the  time  for  such  enterprises." 

"Hey  dey,"  cried  the  old  lady  from  the  bed,  "I  would 
have  you  to  know,  good  woman,  that  I  count  myself  well- 
nigh  as  active  as  I  was  in  the  days  when  I  was  in  that 
state  of  grace  to  dance  and  mask  and  ride  a-hawking  with 
the  finest  king  in  Christendom.  But  men  have  their  uses" — 
here  the  old  lady  grinned,  and  then  recalling  the  gravity 
of  the  occasion  looked  very  grave  and  demure  indeed — 
"and  a  man's  wit  and  vigour  might  help  us  now,  but  it 
behooves  us  to  go  warily,  for  we  would  not  have  the  dis- 
appearance of  this  girl  made  matter  for  countryside  babble." 

Mistress  Gannett  was  as  shocked  at  the  thought  as  Lady 
Gylford  could  be  and  concurred  heartily  in  her  opinion. 

"He  that  owns  the  outlandish  house,"  she  said,  "is  one 
Master  Hercules  Flood,  one  that  has  made  his  fortune 
upon  the  seas.  He  might  well  be  of  service  to  us  in  this 
matter,  seeing  that  the  young  lady  was  his  tenant,  and  was 
pleased  to  accord  him  her  friendship." 

The  old  lady  in  the  bed  crooked  her  eyebrows  curiously 
at  the  words  of  Mistress  Gannett. 

"What  of  this  fellow,"  she  asked  sharply,  "this  fellow 
with  the  name  of  the  strong  man?  Was  he  often  at  the 
house,  say  you  ?  Was  the  fool  girl  much  in  his  company  ?" 

"I  believe  he  saw  the  young  lady  pretty  often,"  Mistress 
Gannett  replied  cautiously,  "but  he  did  not,  as  it  were, 
visit  the  house,  if  house  you  can  call  it.  Mistress  Constant 
was  fond  of  taking  her  ease  in  a  little  orchard  that  was 
at  some  distance  and  it  was  here,  as  I  understand,  that 
Master  Flood  used  to  visit  her." 

Lady  Gylford  frowned  again,  more  ferociously  than 
ever. 

"Have  you  ever  seen  this  man,  then  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  saw  him  no  less  than  two  days  ago,"  Mistress  Gan- 
nett replied.  "He  came  up  to  the  place  by  the  way  from 
the  orchard,  and  I  happened  to  be  in  the  garden.  He  asked 
if  Mistress  Clarenda  was  within  as  he  had  failed  to  find 


ALARMS  AND  EXCURSIONS  229 

her  in  the  orchard.  When  I  told  him  that  the  young  lady 
had  gone  to  King's  Welcome  he  seemed  mighty  disappointed 
and  asked  if  I  knew  when  she  was  to  return,  and  I  told  him 
that  I  did  not  know,  but  that  I  understood  it  would  only 
be  a  few  days.  Thereafter  he  went  away." 

"What  kind  of  a  man  was  this  mariner?"  questioned  the 
old  lady  in  the  bed. 

"A  fine  figure  of  a  man,"  replied  Mistress  Gannett,  "taller 
than  most  and  broader  and  very  politely  spoken." 

"And  where  does  this  polite  giant  reside,  since  he  was 
turned  out  of  his  house?"  asked  Lady  Gylford. 

"I  believe  that  he  lodges  at  the  'Dolphin,'  which  as  your 
ladyship  may  know  is  the  favourite  house  for  seafarers," 
answered  Mistress  Gannett. 

The  old  lady  gave  a  grunt  which  suggested  a  very  com- 
plete indifference  to  the  "Dolphin's"  reputation. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "this  is  as  strange  a  business  as  ever 
I  heard.  In  the  days  of  great  King  Harry  girls  did  not 
play  such  pranks.  But  we  have  changed  sadly  for  the 
worse.  However  we  must  do  something  to  find  the  minx, 
and  we  shall  want  a  man  to  help  us,  and  above  all  we 
shall  not  want  this  matter  to  become  food  for  gossip,  so 
the  man  we  need  must  be  a  true  friend  and  discreet. 
Therefore  my  mind  advises  that  we  should  incontinently 
send  for  Sir  Batty  Sellars." 

The  name  of  Sir  Batty  was  pleasing  to  the  listening  ears. 
Mistress  Gannett  had  been  much  taken  with  Sir  Batty 
on  the  two  occasions  on  which  she  had  seen  him,  for  Sir 
Batty  made  it  a  rule  of  his  game  always  to  be  affable  to 
women  whatever  their  age  or  station. 

"If  you  will  take  yonder  hand-bell,"  said  the  old  lady, 
"and  ring  it  in  the  corridor  we  shall  find  some  one  to  send." 

Mistress  Gannett  did  as  directed.  A  servant  promptly 
responded  to  the  clangour,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Master 
Sandys  at  his  own  eager  entreaty  was  riding  at  the  top 
of  his  speed  in  the  direction  of  Willoughby  Homing  bear- 
ing an  urgent  message  to  Sir  Batty  from  the  lady  Gylford 
entreating  to  come  at  his  quickest  to  King's  Welcome. 

"Now,"  said  Lady  Gylford,  when  her  messenger  had 
departed,  "this  is  no  time  to  lie  slug-a-bed.  I  will  get 
up  and  dress." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

WITHOUT  HUE  OR  CRY 

SIR  BATTY,  on  account  of  his  wound,  had  been  keeping 
the  house  at  Willoughby  Homing.  The  hurt  was  but 
slight  and  his  healthy  flesh  was  soon  mending,  but  Sir 
Batty  believed  in  the  exercise  of  a  wide  discretion  where 
his  welfare  was  concerned.  Also  there  was  another  reason 
for  his  wishing  to  be  whole  again  as  speedily  as  possible. 
He  did  not  at  all  desire  to  appear  before  Clarenda  with  an 
injured  limb.  Pity  was  the  last  feeling  a  man  of  his  tem- 
perament desired  to  inspire  in  the  bosom  of  the  woman  he 
admired,  and  it  would  have  galled  his  pride  woefully  to 
think  that  Clarenda  should  become  reminded  of  his  de- 
feat through  such  a  visible  sign.  He  had  therefore  the 
services  of  fhe  best  surgeon  out  of  Tavistock,  and  he  took 
much  repose  and  lived  very  abstemiously  with  the  agree- 
able result  that  his  arm  got  better  rapidly.  After  a  couple 
of  days  he  was  allowed  to  be  about  the  house ;  on  the  third 
day  he  was  permitted  to  take  the  air  in  the  garden.  On 
the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  he  was  seated  in  a  pleasant 
summer  chamber,  playing  at  cards  with  his  host  and  his 
travelling  companion,  and  playing  with  his  usual  ability 
for  all  that  he  had  to  play  left-handed,  when  the  game 
was  interrupted  by  a  servant  with  the  announcement  that 
Parson  Sandys  from  King's  Welcome  was  at  the  door  and 
desired  to  speak  with  Sir  Batty  very  urgently. 

Almost  Sir  Batty's  cheeks  coloured;  almost  Sir  Batty's 
left  hand  trembled,  agitating  its  load  of  cards.  A  message 
from  King's  Welcome,  his  instant  hope  assured  him,  must 
mean  a  message  from  Clarenda.  In  truth  Sir  Batty  had 
been  more  than  a  little  piqued  to  think  that  no  word  had 
come  to  him  from  the  fair  maid  of  honour  during  the  past 
three  days.  Even  if  no  news  of  the  encounter  had  come 
to  her  ears — and  Sir  Batty  could  not  believe  this  likely — 
230 


WITHOUT  HUE  OR  CRY  231 

he  judged  that  the  place  he  knew  he  held  in  her  heart  would 
have  spurred  her  to  summon  him  to  her  side.  And  now  he 
felt  sure  that  this  was  the  summons  although  it  came  from 
King's  Welcome  and  not  from  "The  Golden  Hart."  She 
had  quitted  the  land-ship,  he  told  himself  in  the  swift  in- 
stant of  thought  that  followed  on  the  announcement  of  the 
arrival  of  Master  Sandys.  The  hand  which  had  almost 
trembled  laid  the  cards  down  upon  the  table. 

"I  will  see  the  fellow  at  once,"  he  said  and  rose  from 
his  seat. 

Jack  Willoughby  would  have  stayed  him. 

"Why  not  have  parson  in  here,"  he  suggested,  "and 
spare  yourself  the  fatigue  of  motion?" 

Sir  Batty  shook  his  head. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  care,  Jack,"  he  said  with  a  faint 
smile,  "but  this  may  prove  to  be  a  message  for  my  private 
ear.  We  will  resume  the  game  in  a  minute." 

But  the  game  was  not  destined  to  be  renewed. 

It  was  very  much  more  than  a  minute  before  Sir  Batty 
returned  to  the  room,  and  when  he  did  return  it  was 
with  a  face  so  strangely  white  and  drawn  that  honest  Jack 
Willoughby  rose  to  his  feet  in  alarm  and  even  the  more 
composed  Mr.  Winwood  showed  concern. 

"Good  God,  what  is  the  matter?"  cried  Willoughby. 
"Have  you  heard  bad  news?" 

"Bad  news  indeed,"  replied  Sir  Batty,  dropping  heavily 
into  his  seat.  His  left  hand  was  shaking  now  indeed  and 
the  letter  which  it  held  quivered  like  a  leaf.  "I  have  here 
a  missive  from  my  lady  Gylford  which  tells  me  that  Mistress 
Constant  has  disappeared." 

Jack  Willoughby  gaped  at  him  with  a  mouth  wide  enough 
to  swallow  an  apple.  Mr.  Winwood  leaned  forward  quickly. 

"What  mean  you  by  disappeared,  Batty?" 

"What  should  I  mean  by  disappeared  but  disappeared?" 
Sir  Batty  answered  with  most  unfamiliar  sharpness.  "The 
girl  has  gone,  vanished,  no  one  knows  whither  that  should 
know.  She  is  not  at  that  damned  ship-house;  she  is  not 
at  King's  Welcome.  My  lady  bids  me  attend  on  her  and 
I  ride  at  once.  Will  one  of  you  accompany  me?  There 
may  be  much  to  do." 

Both    his    friends    declared   that   they    would    go   with 


232  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

him,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  the  three  were  riding  at 
the  top  of  their  speed  towards  King's  Welcome,  with 
Master  Sandys  following  at  a  respectful  distance  behind 
them. 

At  King's  Welcome  the  three  friends  found  Lady  Gyl- 
ford  waiting  to  receive  them  in  a  high  state  of  agitation 
and  anger.  Immediately  the  visitors  and  their  hostess  took 
counsel  together  to  consider  what  had  best  be  done  and 
how  best  to  do  it.  The  old  lady,  if  aroused,  was  not  at  all 
flustered,  and  she  told  all  she  had  to  tell  clearly  and  de- 
cisively. She  could  offer  no  suggestion  as  to  the  cause  of 
Clarenda's  disappearance,  but  she  took  it  well-nigh  for 
granted  that  it  was  due  to  some  freakish  impulse  of  her 
own,  that  might  probably,  or  at  least  possibly,  have  its 
connection  with  some  unsuspected  love-affair.  At  this 
suggestion  Sir  Batty's  brow  darkened  but  he  held  his  peace, 
for  he  was  as  convinced  as  ever  was  Frangois  of  France 
that  women  are  weather-hens  and  he  a  fool  who  puts  faith 
in  them.  Lady  Gylford  went  on  to  argue  that  the  country 
was  peaceable  and  law-abiding  and  that  there  was  happily 
little  reason  to  entertain  any  fear  of  foul  play,  though  un- 
happily it  was  of  course  impossible  entirely  to  exclude  it. 
On  one  point  Lady  Gylford  spoke  very  firmly  and  found 
her  hearers  wholly  in  agreement  with  her.  She  was  con- 
vinced that,  for  a  time  at  least,  the  matter  should  be  kept 
as  secret  as  possible  and  that  recourse  to  the  aid  of  pub- 
licity and  the  law  should  be  postponed  until  they  themselves 
there  present  had  done  their  best  to  trace  the  missing  girl, 
and  so  avoid  a  flagrant  scandal. 

In  furtherance  of  this  well-advised  purpose  my  lady  had 
already  sent  Mistress  Gannett  back  to  "The  Golden  Hart" 
with  instructions  to  carry  herself  and  conduct  the  house- 
hold as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and  even,  if  any  question 
were  asked,  to  take  upon  herself  the  sin  of  telling  a  lie 
and  roundly  assert  that  Mistress  Clarenda  was  indeed  at 
King's  Welcome.  This  much  had  been  done  and  well  done. 
The  question  now  was,  what  next  to  do? 

It  seemed  to  Sir  Batty  that  the  earliest  course  to  pursue 
was  to  make  all  possible  instant  and  discreet  enquiries  in 
the  immediate  neighbourhood.  He  asked,  in  the  first  place, 
if  Mistress  Clarenda  had  formed  many  friendships  in  the 


WITHOUT  HUE  OR  CRY  233 

countryside.  None,  Lady  Gylford  assured  him,  none  at 
least  that  she  was  aware  of,  except  indeed  that  foolish  and 
unfortunate  acquaintance  with  the  seafaring  fellow  who 
had  erected  Flood's  Folly  and  who  seemed  to  be  as  much 
surprised  at  the  young  lady's  disappearance  as  they  them- 
selves were. 

Sir  Batty's  forehead  darkened  again  at  the  mention  of 
Hercules'  name.  Without  any  evidence  to  support  him, 
his  instinct  insisted  upon  associating  the  seafarer  with 
the  disappearance  of  the  lady.  He  did  not  definitely  put 
these  suspicions  into  words  at  this  moment  but  he  an- 
nounced that  he  would  seek  out  his  late  antagonist  and 
question  him,  while  he  advised  that  Jack  Willoughby  and 
Spencer  Winwood  should  range  the  countryside  and  put 
privy  questions  to  responsible  persons. 

Decision  thus  arrived  at  Sir  Batty  and  his  friends  took 
swift  leave  of  Lady  Gylford  and  parted  at  the  door  of 
King's  Welcome,  each  man  riding  on  his  special  mission. 
Sir  Batty,  spurring  his  horse  to  top  of  speed,  skirted  the 
town,  making  for  "The  Golden  Hart."  He  was  in  a  sweat 
and  his  steed  was  in  a  lather  when  he  flung  himself  from 
his  saddle  and  demanded  speech  with  Mistress  Gannett. 
That  good  lady  was  instant  in  attendance,  but  she  could 
tell  Sir  Batty  nothing  that  he  did  not  already  know.  She 
could  recall  no  sentence,  no  half  phrase,  no  lightly  dropped 
word  that  could  give  the  slightest  hint  as  to  Mistress 
Clarenda's  reason  for  quitting  "The  Golden  Hart,"  always 
assuming  that  she  had  quitted  it  with  intention  and  of  her 
own  free  will.  All  that  Mistress  Gannett  could  report  was 
that  on  a  certain  morning — which  was  the  morning  after 
the  pastoral  buffoonery — Mistress  Constant  had  gone  to 
her  favourite  haunt  in  the  orchard;  that  she  had  not  re- 
turned to  dinner,  and  that  when  Mistress  Gannett  went  to 
seek  her  there  was  no  sign  of  her  save  her  lute  and  her 
book  and  the  pillows  that  still  bore  the  pressure  of  her  form. 
On  the  same  day  a  seafaring  youth  bore  the  believable  mes- 
sage that  Mistress  Clarenda  had  gone  to  King's  Welcome 
and  on  the  following  day  Master  Flood  had  paid  a  visit  in 
the  afternoon  and  shown  chagrin  at  the  young  lady's  ab- 
sence. 

No   question    that    Sir   Batty's    ingenuity   could    devise 


234  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

succeeded  in  eliciting  any  further  clue  from  Mistress  Gan- 
nett. 

Baffled  and  angry  Sir  Batty  mounted  his  horse  again 
and  hurried  him  back  to  Plymouth,  making  for  the 
"Dolphin."  The  landlord,  smoking  his  pipe  at  his  yard 
gate,  saluted  a  rider  whom  he  instantly  appreciated  for 
a  fine  gentleman  and  was,  at  first,  promptly  responsive 
to  questioning.  But  he  had  nothing  to  answer  that  gave 
Sir  Batty  satisfaction.  The  mention  of  the  name  of  Master 
Hercules  Flood  seemed  somehow  to  drown  the  landlord's 
mind  in  a  depth  of  obtuseness  not  to  be  expected  from  his 
general  air  of  alert  intelligence. 

Master  Hercules  Flood  certainly  had  a  lodging  at  the 
"Dolphin"  and  at  the  "Dolphin"  Master  Hercules  Flood 
was  always  as  welcome  as  the  flowers  in  May,  as  the 
saying  went.  But  Master  Hercules  Flood  was  not  at  the 
"Dolphin"  at  that  present,  and  the  landlord,  scratching 
his  head  vigorously,  protested  that  he  had  not  the  faintest 
idea  where  Master  Hercules  Flood  might  be.  He  might 
be  aboard  his  ship  and  also  he  might  not.  He  might  have 
gone  on  a  jaunt  to  one  of  the  neighbouring  towns.  He 
might — in  fact,  the  possibilities  of  Hercules'  whereabouts 
were  as  varied  as  vague  in  the  mind  of  the  host  of  the 
"Dolphin."  When  Sir  Batty,  much  exasperated,  asked 
when  Master  Flood  had  last  stayed  at  the  "Dolphin,"  the 
landlord  was  as  useless  as  before.  He  could  not  call  to 
mind,  he  could  not  say  exactly;  he  was  so  used  to  Master 
Flood  a-coming  and  a-going  that  he  really  had  no  precise 
idea  when  he  saw  him  last. 

Although  Sir  Batty  carried  his  mask  of  equability  he  was 
inwardly  torn  with  emotions.  There  was  rage  at  the  dis- 
appearance of  Clarenda,  whom  he  certainly  desired  very 
hotly,  and  whom  he  came  perhaps  as  near  to  loving  as  was 
possible  for  him.  There  was  fear  for  her  safety,  for  her 
life,  for  her  honour.  To  these  high  conflicting  emotions 
were  now  added  a  fretted  sense  of  exasperation  at  the 
elusiveness  of  his  search.  There  seemed  to  be  no  clue 
to  follow,  no  finger-post  to  indicate.  It  would  not  be  pos- 
sible long  to  withhold  the  knowledge  of  the  case  from  the 
civil  authorities,  yet  there  were  many  reasons  which  made 
Sir  Batty  eager  that  the  present  reticence  should  be  per- 


WITHOUT  HUE  OR  CRY  235 

sisted  in.  It  was  no  part  of  his  purpose  that  his  residence 
at  Willoughby  Homing,  within  a  brisk  ride  of  King's  Wel- 
come, should  come  to  the  ears  of  his  Sovereign  Mistress. 
That  Sovereign  Lady  believed  that  her  Master  of  the 
Lesser  Revels  was  enjoying  a  holiday  with  his  friend  Mr. 
Winwood  at  Mr.  Winwood's  pleasure-lodge  in  Norfolk. 
Sir  Batty  had  never  directly  said  as  much  to  his  Sovereign 
Lady,  but  he  had  deliberately  allowed  her  to  infer  as  much, 
and  had  been  at  no  pains  whatever  to  contradict  the  in- 
ference. He  could  easily  foresee  and  fear  the  displeasure 
of  the  Queen. 

He  was  now  on  the  point  of  turning  from  the  "Dolphin's" 
door,  when  the  host  arrested  him  with  a  lifted  ringer. 

"By  Christopher!"  he  cried,  "here  in  good  season  comes 
the  very  man  you  seek." 

He  lowered  his  lifted  index  as  he  spoke  and  pointed  along 
the  Hoe,  and  Sir  Batty  following  his  guide  saw  Hercules 
Flood  riding  slowly  towards  him  astride  of  a  black  horse 
of  a  monstrous  size.  Sir  Batty  immediately  pricked  for- 
ward to  meet  him  and  the  two  riders  encountered  some 
few  hundred  yards  from  the  inn  gate.  Hercules,  on  see- 
ing Sir  Batty,  made  him  a  courteous  salutation  and  was  for 
passing  on,  but  Sir  Batty  reined  in  his  steed  with  so  evident 
an  intention  of  staying  his  late  antagonist  that  Hercules 
in  his  turn  came  to  a  halt. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  about,  Sir  Batty,"  he  said  politely. 
"I  trust  that  your  hurt  is  well-nigh  mended  ?" 

He  glanced,  as  he  spoke,  at  Sir  Batty's  slung  right  arm. 
Sir  ,  Batty  acknowledged  the  enquiry  with  an  inclination 
of  the  head. 

"I  thank  your  courtesy,"  he  replied,  "my  arm  will  soon 
be  as  good  as  ever  it  was.  A  clean  hurt  is  soon  whole,  as 
the  proverb  goes."  He  laughed  a  little  as  he  spoke,  care- 
lessly, and  then  quite  suddenly,  on  the  chance  to  take  his 
suspected  enemy  off  his  guard,  he  questioned  quickly. 
"Have  you  seen  Mistress  Constant  of  late?" 

Hercules  Flood  regarded  his  interrogator  with  a  perfectly 
unmoved  countenance. 

"Why  there,"  he  said,  "is  the  very  question  that  I 
was  wishful  to  put  to  your  knighthood.  They  tell  me  at 
the  place  which  the  country  folk  here  about  call  my  Folly 


236  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

that  Mistress  Constant  has  gone  all  of  a  sudden  on  a  visit 
to  King's  Welcome.  I  am  just  come  from  my  house  and 
hear  that  she  has  not  yet  returned.  As  I  have  not  the 
honour  to  be  acquainted  with  my  lady  Gylford,  I  fear  it 
would  be  something  venturesome  and  unmannerly  to  wait 
upon  Mistress  Constant  at  King's  Welcome." 

Sir  Batty,  looking  steadfastly  on  the  steady  face  of 
Hercules  Flood,  wondered  more  than  ever,  and  suspected 
more  than  ever.  But  he  felt  that  it  was  useless  to  betray 
suspicion  just  then.  There  was  no  flagrant  falsehood  in 
Hercules'  speech,  though  every  word  might  have  been 
ingeniously  brought  together  to  foster  a  false  impression. 

"I  am  sure,"  he  protested  politely,  "that  my  lady 
Gylford  would  be  delighted  to  welcome  within  her  walls  a 
gentleman  of  so  original  a  spirit  as  yourself." 

With  that  he  saluted  and  pushed  onward,  and  Hercules 
leisurely  continued  his  road  to  the  "Dolphin." 

Sir  Batty  rode  quickly  back  to  "The  Golden  Hart" 
where  he  learned  from  Mistress  Gannett  that  Hercules 
Flood  had  spoken  truth  in  saying  that  he  had  just,  for  a 
second  time,  visited  his  land-ship  to  renew  his  enquiries 
as  to  Mistress  Constant.  It  even  seemed  that  he  had  said 
to  Mistress  Gannett  very  much  what  he  had  said  to  Sir 
Batty  as  to  the  inadvisability  of  his  waiting  upon  Mistress 
Constant  at  King's  Welcome,  owing  to  his  lack  of  acquaint- 
anceship with  Lady  Gylford. 

Sir  Batty  frowned,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  impressed 
afresh  upon  Mistress  Gannett  the  necessity  for  continued 
secrecy  and  discretion,  and  returned  to  King's  Welcome 
with  a  sense  of  disappointment  that  was  close  akin  to 
despair. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

SECOND  THOUGHTS 

WHEN  Hercules  paid  his  next  visit  to  Clarenda  on 
the  third  day  of  her  captivity  he  carried  himself 
in  the  fashion  of  a  polite  host  waiting  upon  a  willing  guest. 
Clarenda,  shrewd  enough  to  realize  that  nothing  was  to  be 
gained  for  her  by  frowardness,  matched  her  manner  to  his 
own,  and  the  pair  discoursed  together  as  gaily  and  plea- 
santly as  if  they  had  been  sitting  in  the  warmth  of  the  wind- 
sheltered  orchard  at  "The  Golden  Hart"  instead  of  in  the 
lonely  moorland  castle  of  Mountdragon.  When,  after  an 
hour  that  was  dyed  in  the  brightest  colours  of  courtesy 
and  friendship,  Hercules  rose  to  take  his  self-appointed 
leave,  he  delivered  himself  of  this  speech : 

"Mistress  Constant,"  he  said,  "since  you  are  for  the 
moment,  will  you  or  nill  you,  my  guest,  I  can  discover  no 
advantage  to  either  of  us  in  standing  on  terms  of  stiffness 
and  distance.  So  therefore,  I  entreat  you,  as  the  master 
of  this  house,  to  conduct  yourself  as  if  you  were  my  willing 
instead  of  my  unwilling  guest.  If  you  will  consent,  I  should 
make  bold  to  request  the  privilege  of  sharing  your  company 
at  meal-times,  as  would  surely  be  the  case  if  you  had  been 
pleased  to  visit  me  of  your  own  accord." 

Clarenda's  face  wore  an  air  of  thoughtful  approval. 
Indeed  this  suggestion  of  her  gaoler's  came  to  her  as  a 
welcome  relief,  for  she  who  was  used  to  companionship 
found  little  diversion  either  in  solitude  or  in  the  society  of 
Mistress  Penfeather. 

"Since  we  are  for  the  time  being  compelled  to  abide 
under  the  same  roof,"  she  said  slowly,  "we  may  as  well 
enliven  the  long  hours  with  some  show  of  fellowship. 
You  must  not  think  that  I  like  you  any  the  better  or  forgive 
you  one  jot  of  the  wrong  you  have  done  me.  But  I  weary 
in  loneliness,  and,  since  I  can  have  no  better  company  than 
237 


238  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

yours,  I  may  as  well  accept  it,  such  as  it  is,  and  make  the 
best  of  it." 

Hercules  paid  the  young  lady  as  profound  a  salutation 
as  if  she  had  made  him  the  most  flattering  compliment  in 
the  world,  couched  in  the  most  amiable  terms. 

"You  are  graciousness  itself,"  he  protested,  "and  I 
am  indeed  happy  in  your  consent." 

On  this  agreement  they  parted,  to  meet  again  under  such 
custom  of  familiar  intercourse  as  would  be  natural  between 
a  cordial  host  and  a  contented  guest.  There  was  no  more 
hint  of  gaoler  and  prisoner  than  was  inevitable  in  the  fact 
that  Clarenda's  range  was  limited  to  a  certain  set  of  rooms 
in  a  certain  moorland  castle.  The  charming  intimacy 
of  the  orchard  close  by  "The  Golden  Hart"  was  renewed 
under  conditions  that  made  the  intimacy  at  once  more 
insidious,  more  bewildering  and,  in  a  measure,  more 
delicious. 

There  are  epochs  in  the  history  of  most  men  and  women 
when  some  certain  space  of  days,  otherwise  insignificant 
and  trivial,  seems  to  expand,  to  exaggerate  its  endurance 
and  importance,  to  impart  to  minutes  the  value  of  hours 
and  to  hours  the  magnitude  of  days.  Such  was  the  case 
with  the  days  that  immediately  succeeded  Clarenda's 
enforced  habitation  of  Mountdragon.  She  was  to  outward 
seeming  the  honoured  visitor  of  a  most  considerate  and 
entertaining  Castellan;  one  who  was  all  activity  and  all 
anxiety  to  make  her  stay  in  the  strange  place  as  pleasing 
as  possible. 

If  Hercules  had  been  an  interesting  visitor  when  Clarenda 
reigned  at  "The  Golden  Hart,"  he  proved  an  attractive 
host  in  the  solitude  of  his  stronghold.  Though  he  had 
never  been  of  a  bashful  carriage  in  those  orchard  hours,  he 
was  now  more  completely  at  his  ease,  more  amiably 
conscious  of  his  duty  as  a  companion.  At  once  a  good 
talker  and  a  good  listener,  he  talked  and  talked  well  when 
she  had  a  mind  to  be  silent,  telling  her  a  thousand  wonders 
of  his  travels  in  foreign  parts;  and  he  listened  well  when 
she  had  a  mind  to  be  talkative,  and  fed  on  the  crumbs  of 
her  courtly  gossip  with  the  cheerful  air  of  one  that  makes 
a  magnificent  repast.  In  a  word,  for  the  space  of  three 
days  the  oddly  associated  pair  were,  or  seemed  to  be,  the 


SECOND  THOUGHTS  239 

best  friends  in  the  world  and  no  stranger  would  ever  have 
guessed,  from  seeing  them  or  hearing  them,  how  amazing 
was  their  relationship. 

But  if  in  those  three  days  their  friendship  seemed  to 
bloom  too  swiftly,  like  some  tropical  blossom,  the  conditions 
that  fostered  such  friendship  fostered  also  other  thoughts 
on  both  sides  of  the  seeming  partnership.  Hercules,  being 
a  man,  believed  in  his  simplicity  that  he  was  really  gaining 
ground,  and  that,  in  consequence,  the  result  of  his  reckless 
adventure  would  be  the  realization  of  his  passionate  hope. 

Clarenda,  on  the  other  hand,  quickened  by  her  con- 
sciousness of  deliberate  duplicity,  assumed  for  the  purpose 
of  gaining  time,  found  to  her  surprise  and  also  to  her  horror 
that  her  feigning  was  rapidly  wearing  a  troublesome  air 
of  reality.  When  she  was  with  Hercules  she  had  honestly 
to  admit  that  she  delighted  in  his  company.  When  she 
was  alone,  and  at  leisure  to  reflect  upon  her  case,  she  found 
to  her  annoyance  that  she  fell  very  speedily  to  judging 
herself  in  her  conduct  to  Master  Flood  in  the  past, 
and  finding  herself  guilty  of  grave  fault  in  the  matter. 
Reluctant  as  she  was  to  admit  any  possible  imperfection 
in  her  conduct  she  found  herself  constrained,  much  against 
the  grain,  to  admit  that  in  many  ways  she  had  behaved 
very  badly  to  him,  whereas — and  here  her  native  truthful- 
ness asserted  itself  against  her  varnish  of  courtliness — 
Master  Flood  had,  in  all  ways  save  one,  behaved  very 
well  to  her.  As  she  pondered  on  this  problem  his  manly 
figure  seemed  to  loom  with  unnecessary  largeness  against 
the  grey  background  of  her  prison,  and  it  was  with  a  shock 
like  the  sense  of  a  stab  that  the  girl  suddenly  realised  what 
a  place  her  gaoler  had  commanded  in  her  imagination. 

It  alarmed  her  pride  and  rekindled  her  temporarily 
dormant  sense  of  resentment  to  discover  that  she  was 
beginning  to  look  forward  with  eagerness  and  even  with 
impatience  to  his  daily  appearance  within  the  narrowed 
horizon  of  her  life,  and  to  regret  very  decidedly  that 
moment  when  the  hour  struck  at  the  closing  of  the  day 
which  deprived  her  of  his  company.  He  was  a  good  gossip; 
she  had  to  admit  as  much  to  herself ;  but  the  making  of 
one  amiable  admission  with  regard  to  her  gaoler  led  to  her 
making  others  by  brisk  degrees  which  proved  more  and 


24o  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

more  alarming.  It  was  not  merely,  so  she  began  to  believe, 
because  he  was  a  good  gossip  that  she  was  glad  to  have  him 
come  and  grieved  to  have  him  go.  Other  men  had  afforded 
her  entertainment  in  other  days  and  she  had  seen  them 
come  and  go  with  indifference  or  with  a  sense  of  regret 
so  attenuated  as  scarcely  to  deserve  the  grave  name. 
Consciousness  crept  over  her  spirit  like  a  shadow  that  she 
was  quick  to  welcome  her  captor  and  slow  to  bid  him  fare- 
well, not  because  he  was  merry  and  pleasant  and  could  dis- 
course well  on  many  pleasing  matters,  but  simply  and  solely 
because  he  was  Hercules  Flood.  When  she  consented 
reluctantly  to  make  this  confession  to  her  soul  she  stood 
aghast  at  the  weight  of  its  significance. 

Was  there  not  a  moment,  she  now  asked  herself,  with  a 
fierceness  of  shame  that  yet  had  a  kind  of  sweet  in  it,  when 
the  essence  of  her  nature  urged  her  to  respond  to  any  appeal 
from  the  man  to  whom  her  hatred  was  dedicated?  If  he 
had  made  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  would  she,  so  she  ques- 
tioned fretfully,  have  found  in  her  mind  the  force  to  resist 
or  to  deny?  To  all  these  bitter  self-enquiries  she  found 
no  answer  that  was  medicinable  or  palatable.  Angrily 
she  recalled  how  they  had  talked  with  all  the  sweet  intimacy 
of  friendship;  how  they  had  exchanged  thoughts;  how 
she  had  suffered  him  on  taking  leave  to  kiss  her  hand 
unchallenged.  Truly  it  was  no  more  than  the  civil  saluta- 
tion accorded  to  host  and  accepted  by  guest,  but  its  inci- 
dence emphasized  a  perilous  acceptance  of  the  position 
of  guest  to  host.  She  went  hot  and  cold  in  horror  at  the 
thought;  she  felt  as  one  feels  that  slides,  smiling  and 
unconscious,  to  the  brink  of  sin ;  she  shuddered  to  think 
that  she  had  well-nigh  accepted  the  pollution  of  surrender 
to  her  tyrant's  terms.  Hotly  she  determined  to  make  an  end 
of  this  shameful,  shameless  vacillation.  She  was  resolved 
to  be  the  conqueror  in  this  quarrel,  though  she  broke  his 
man's  heart  and  her  woman's  heart  in  the  accomplishment 
of  her  resolve. 

But  Hercules  knew  nothing  of  these  searchings  of  the 
spirit,  and  when  he  came  to  the  great  hall  on  the  morrow 
to  pay  his  daily  visit  to  his  fair  prisoner,  he  did  so  with  a 
high  and  hopeful  heart.  He  believed  that  an  understand- 
ing had  been  arrived  at  between  two  strong,  proud,  turbu- 


SECOND  THOUGHTS  241 

lent  spirits;  that  the  eternal  battle  between  man  and 
woman  had  in  this  instance  been  concluded  with  an 
honourable  peace;  and  that  the  purpose  which  had 
animated  him  to  so  strange  and  desperate  a  course  would 
be  triumphantly  justified.  But  he  had  to  confess  to  his 
soul,  on  the  first  moment  of  this  new  meeting  with 
Clarenda,  that  something  had  changed  in  their  world  since 
yesterday.  All  that  had  spurred  him  to  hope  that  the 
wild  game  had  ended  kindly,  that  the  proud  heart  was 
willing  to  place  itself  in  his  keeping,  seemed  suddenly  to 
dissolve  and  disappear  as  faint  smoke  fumes  into  the  air. 
She  was  no  longer  vehement,  wilful,  petulant,  passionate, 
yielding.  Now  she  was  amiable,  with  a  point  of  malice 
in  her  amiability,  cool  in  her  carriage,  fortified  in  a  serenity 
that  was  half  disdain  and  half  defiance;  in  brief,  another 
woman  from  the  woman  that  had  shewn  herself  so  kindly 
on  the  previous  day. 

Although  his  instinct  hinted  that  he  had  lost  ground 
where  it  had  been  his  belief  that  he  had  gained  ground,  he 
was  still  too  primed  with  a  joyous  hope  that  had  seemed  a 
joyous  confidence  not  to  give  that  hope  an  airing  and  put 
his  fortune  to  the  test  anew.  Therefore,  when  they  had 
passed  through  the  gravity  and  formality  of  the  morning's 
salutations,  he  spoke. 

"Very  dear  lady,  your  presence  here  has  made  this 
gaunt  old  place  like  one  of  those  enchanted  castles  they  tell 
of  in  story-books,  wherein  knights  and  ladies  find  endless 
youth  and  taste  endless  joy.  If  my  mind  does  not  lie  to  me, 
I  would  fain  believe  that  you  have  found  your  sojourn  here 
less  irksome  than  at  first  you  feared." 

He  paused  to  look  for  some  sign  of  encouragement  in 
her  eyes  or  on  her  lips,  but  he  found  none.  Her  face  was 
steadfast  in  gravity;  her  eyes  and  mouth  were  quiet; 
she  watched  him  with  an  indecipherable  regard.  He  spoke 
again. 

"I  hope  we  have  grown  to  be  friends.  In  that  hope  I 
make  bold  to  ask  you  once  again  the  old  question,  will 
you  be  my  wife?  So  far  as  a  man's  promise  can  assure 
another  human  being  I  promise,  in  the  name  of  the  love  I 
bear  you,  that  I  will  make  you  a  happy  woman." 

His  words  were  like  soft  ringers  playing  upon  Clarenda's 


242  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

heart-strings,  but  she  hardened  her  heart  against  the 
music  they  strove  to  make.  Still  she  observed  him  with 
cold  implacable  eyes,  but  when  she  spoke  there  was  a 
certain  softness  in  her  speech  that  seemed  to  belie  her 
coldness. 

"Your  offer  is  one  that  no  maid  in  her  reason  would 
have  the  right  to  resent.  Your  offer  is  one  that  many 
a  maid  would  welcome  gladly,  for  no  wise  woman  would 
deny  that  you  are  a  proper  man.  But  I  will  give  you  no 
answer  now  nor  hereafter  to  your  question  while  you 
hold  me  a  prisoner,  and  sorely  against  my  will.  Give  me 
my  liberty.  Carry  me  back  in  all  regretful  humility  to 
King's  Welcome.  Then  and  then  only  I  will  be  willing 
to  hear  your  pleading  and  to  give  you  my  answer.  Till 
I  am  free  in  my  own  right  and  choice  of  freedom,  you  shall 
find  me  very  silent." 

It  may  be  that  Clarenda  hoped  and  purposed  to  put 
it  into  the  mind  of  Hercules  that  if  he  did  as  she  wished 
he  would  not,  in  the  sequel,  find  her  unkind.  It  may 
well  be  that  she  was  resolved  to  be  kindness  itself  if  he 
came  to  her  terms.  Very  certainly  Hercules  found  him- 
self for  a  moment  caught  in  the  sweet  snare  of  her  speech 
and  ready  to  take  the  lure.  The  syllables  of  surrender 
hovered  on  his  lips.  Well  nigh  he  was  ready  to  kneel 
before  her,  to  clasp  her  hand  and  kiss  it  in  signal  of  alle- 
giance. Then,  suddenly,  remembrance  of  the  orchard  close, 
and  her  trick,  and  the  sneering,  smiling  faces  of  the  men 
her  friends  crowded  into  his  brain  and  warned  his  native 
doggedness  not  to  trust  her,  but  only  to  trust  to  himself 
and  to  the  plan  he  had  marked  out.  Though  his  eyes 
and  his  voice  were  still  kind,  as  a  lover's  eyes  and  voice 
should  ever  be,  obstinacy  commanded  him  and  denied  her. 

"No,  no,  sweet  lady,  you  shall  not  cajole  me  so.  I 
have  brought  you  here,  at  my  risk  and  to  your  little  ease, 
on  a  pledge  I  made  to  myself  and  told  to  you.  You  are 
the  mate  Heaven  made  for  me.  I  am  the  mate  Heaven 
made  for  you.  Let  us  understand  one  another  gallantly 
with  no  more  shilly-shally.  Say  that  you  will  have  me  for 
your  man  and  we  will  ride  hence  together  at  once,  as  happy 
a  couple  as  sun  could  wish  to  shine  upon." 

The  resolution  in  him  rekindled  resolution  in  her.     If 


SECOND  THOUGHTS  243 

her  heart  beat  in  time  to  his  wooing,  her  brain  commanded 
her  to  meet  his  bid  for  dominion  with  clash  against  clash. 

So  in  an  instant  the  heat  of  Clarenda's  anger  flamed 
up  within  her,  consuming  her  sudden  tenderness,  withering 
her  green  regard.  She  had  given  her  gaoler  a  chance  to 
make  his  peace  and  he  had  disdained  it;  she  was  mad 
with  herself  for  her  offer  and  with  him  for  his  insolence 
of  refusal. 

"Let  us  talk  no  more  on  this  matter,"  she  said  icily. 
"Be  advised  for  good  and  all  that  so  long  as  you  hold 
me  here  against  my  will  I  will  hold  no  parley  with  you. 
If  it  concerns  you  at  all  you  may  know  that  I  esteem  you 
a  most  ungentle  gentleman,  but  I  take  it  that  you  are  too 
thick-skinned  to  wince  under  any  scorn.  If  in  your  com- 
position there  are  yet  any  dregs  of  honour,  of  courtesy,  of 
good  conduct,  I  would  ask  you  at  least  to  spare  me  your 
further  company,  for  indeed,  I  do  not  find  it  alluring.  But 
you  are  perhaps  one  of  those  that  love  to  impose  them- 
selves where  they  know  that  their  presence  is  detested." 

Hercules  flushed  a  little,  for  her  words  stung  him  more 
than  he  liked,  although  he  was  too  stubborn  to  admit  their 
justice.  He  made  her  a  grave  salutation. 

"With  your  permission,"  he  said,  "I  will  continue  to 
wait  upon  you  each  morning  to  enquire  after  your  well- 
being.  Beyond  that  visit  I  shall  not  trespass  upon  your 
privacy  without  your  permission.  But  I  hope " 

"Your  hope  is  vain,"  she  interrupted  sharply. 

Hercules  bowed  again  and  quitted  the  chamber. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

WINGS 

THE  long  day  passed  dully  for  Clarenda.  She  ate, 
when  food  was  served  her,  reluctantly  and  with  in- 
difference. She  rebuffed,  with  a  sullen  disdain,  all  Deborah 
Penfeather's  efforts  to  divert  her  with  conversation.  In 
good  time  the  woman  saw  that  her  efforts  were  unavail- 
ing, and  as  she  was  under  positive  orders  to  humour  and 
pleasure  the  young  lady  in  all  possible  measure  she  was 
shrewd  enough  to  guess  that  her  discreetest  course  was  to 
withdraw  and  leave  the  young  lady  to  herself.  She  re- 
treated therefore  to  the  seclusion  of  Clarenda's  sleeping- 
chamber,  there  to  remain  until  such  time  as  it  might  please 
Clarenda  to  go  to  bed.  There  was  always  a  fire  in  this 
room,  and  by  this  fire  Mistress  Deborah  sat  and  knitted 
persistently  without  troubling  herself  to  do  any  thinking. 

In  the  great  room  Clarenda  had  no  knitting  to  beguile 
her  save  the  knitting  of  her  troubled  thoughts  into  some 
kind  of  form  and  harmony.  She  sat  for  a  long  while  like 
one  in  a  stupour,  but  when  the  day  began  to  darken  her 
wits  seemed  to  quicken.  She  shook  herself  out  of  her 
apathy,  rose  from  her  chair,  and  began  to  pace  the  great 
room  restlessly  from  one  end  to  the  other.  As  she  did 
so  she  remembered  a  ferret  that  her  young  brother  kept  in 
a  cage  in  the  stables.  She  used  sometimes  to  watch  it 
as  it  ran  backwards  and  forwards  in  its  narrow  cabin, 
and  she  reminded  herself  now  of  that  prisoned  beast,  and 
felt,  what  she  had  scarcely  felt  at  the  time,  a  sympathetic 
pity  for  its  pitiful  case.  It  wanted  to  be  free  and  could 
not  gain  its  liberty.  She  wanted  to  be  free  and  could 
not  have  her  wish.  She  chid  herself  even  as  she  thought 
that  thought.  She  told  herself  that  she  must  not  admit 
that  she  could  not  win  her  liberty.  She  assured  herself 
that  she  must  and  would  win  it,  not  indeed  by  yielding 
244 


WINGS  245 

to  her  tyrant's  terms,  not  by  surrendering,  as  she  had 
felt  herself  in  such  deadly  danger  of  surrendering,  to  her 
tyrant's  charm,  but  by  baffling  in  some  cunning  manner 
that  tyrant's  plans. 

How  might  this  be  done,  she  asked  herself,  seeking 
encouragement  and  inspiration  by  gazing  on  the  picture 
of  the  great  Queen?  She  recalled  how  on  the  first  night 
of  her  captivity  that  now  seemed  so  long  ago,  Hercules 
had  told  her  that  unless  she  had  wings  like  a  bird  she 
could  not  hope  to  escape  from  her  prison.  Indeed  it  had 
seemed  to  her  ever  since,  through  all  those  years  that 
were  only  days,  as  if  he  had  spoken  no  more  than  truth. 
Now  with  a  new  eye  of  determination  she  reviewed  all 
the  loopholes.  The  great  fireplace  offered  no  opportunity. 
Even  if  she  could  climb  its  spacious  chimney — which  she 
could  not — she  would  only  carry  herself  to  some  higher 
point  of  the  castle  and  find  herself  no  better  off  than 
before.  Thus  was  one  seeming  possibility  pronounced 
impossible.  Her  next  thought  was  given  to  the  window. 
She  went  to  it  and  almost  mechanically  leaned  out  into 
the  sweet  of  the  evening  as  she  had  often  leaned  out  be- 
fore in  those  year-long  days  and  nights.  But  the  sweet  of 
the  evening  had  no  voice  to  speak  to  her  hot  heart  and 
busy  brain.  Escape  was  now  more  fiercely  and  eagerly 
than  ever  the  one  purpose  of  her  being,  but  even  her 
fierceness  and  her  eagerness  could  not  refuse  to  see  as 
she  had  seen  before  that  the  window  offered  her  no  way. 

Below  her  the  high  rugged  wall  of  the  keep  dropped  to 
the  moorland  stretching  away  in  all  the  beauty  of  its 
loneliness.  There  was  no  sign  anywhere  of  habitation  other 
than  the  castle  itself  or  of  the  existence  of  human  beings 
other  than  those  who  inhabited  the  castle.  Clarenda  gauged 
as  well  as  she  could  the  height  of  her  window  from  the 
moor  and  guessed  it  at  some  sixty  feet.  Had  she  had  a 
rope  at  hand  she  would  have  made  the  endeavour  to  evade 
by  its  aid,  heedless  of  the  hamper  of  her  woman's  gear. 
But  though  she  sought  with  care  she  could  find  nothing 
in  the  room  that  could  by  any  ingenuity  be  converted  to 
the  use  and  purpose  of  a  rope.  The  hangings  were  of  too 
stubborn  a  texture,  even  if  she  succeeded  in  cutting  them 
into  strips  to  lend  their  pieces  to  tying  together.  Clarenda 


246  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

remembered  that  she  had  once  heard  how  some  daring 
maid  escaped  from  school  by  tearing  her  body  linen  into 
strips  and  making  a  rope  of  the  fragments,  but  she  soon 
decided  that  if  she  did  handle  her  smock  so  it  would  not 
provide  nearly  enough  material  for  the  purpose. 

"Oh,  for  wings,"  she  murmured  to  herself,  her  mind  still 
running  on  Master  Flood's  mocking  speech  of  so  short  a 
time  ago  that  was  so  long  a  time  ago,  "oh,  for  wings !" 

Even  as  she  spoke  the  words,  her  wandering  glance  fell 
upon  the  trophy  on  the  wall,  the  bow  and  arrows  of  the 
chase.  She  found  her  brain  lazily  linking  the  wings  of 
her  desire  with  the  grey  goose  feathers  that  winged  those 
shafts.  Then  all  of  a  sudden  her  wits  shook  off  their 
laziness  and  became  alert  and  active.  There  indeed,  ranged 
against  the  wall,  were  wings  that  might  serve  her  well. 
She  could  not  indeed  bestride  a  clothyard  shaft  as  a  witch 
might  straddle  a  besom  and  so  launch  herself  into  the  free 
air.  But  she  could  at  least  by  the  aid  of  those  arrows  send 
her  voice  abroad  so  that  men  might  learn  of  her  captivity 
and  set  about  to  redeem  her. 

The  trophy  was  out  of  her  reach  as  she  stood,  but  by 
dragging  a  chair  to  the  wall  and  mounting  on  its  seat,  she 
could  easily  lay  her  hands  on  what  she  desired.  In  a  few 
moments  the  long-bow  and  the  quiverful  of  arrows  were  in 
her  hands  and  she  returned  to  earth  with  her  spoils  and 
hid  them  in  a  corner  for  the  nonce.  She  turned  swiftly 
to  the  table,  for  quills  and  ink  and  paper  and  wax  were 
what  she  needed  now. 

Seating  herself  at  the  desk,  she  rapidly  wrote  these 
words : 

"In  God's  name  let  him  who  finds  this  send  word  to 
my  lady  Gylford  at  King's  Welcome  that  I,  Clarenda  Con- 
stant, am  a  prisoner  in  a  castle  somewhere  on  the  moors." 

She  hurriedly  made  four  copies  of  this  missive,  folded 
and  sealed  them.  Going  to  her  artillery  she  transfixed  each 
of  the  letters  with  a  shaft,  pushing  the  impaled  paper  well 
below  the  barb.  Then  she  took  up  the  bow  and  tested  it, 
found  that  it  was  fashioned  of  good  and  seasoned  yew, 
and  that  the  loosened  string  was  still  tuned  and  serviceable. 
Clarenda  had  known  how  to  handle  bows  and  arrows  from 
her  childhood;  her  young  arms  were  strong;  her  young 


WINGS  247 

muscles  were  supple.  She  faced  no  difficulty  in  what  she 
was  about  to  do. 

Clarenda,  with  her  bow  and  a  shaft  in  hand,  like  a  new 
Diana,  pushed  open  the  casements  of  the  great  window 
and  leaned  out  into  the  shifting  light.  The  moon  had 
not  yet  flushed  into  vision;  a  few  stars  powdered  the  pale 
sky ;  it  was  night  and  yet  it  was  not  night ;  it  was  dusk 
but  something  more  than  dusk.  The  pungency  of  the  moor- 
land rose  through  the  warm  air  like  an  acrid  kiss.  The 
suggestion  of  vast  enveloping  space  seemed  to  enhance,  if 
that  were  possible,  Clarenda's  renewed  longing  for  liberty. 
At  least  she  would  lose  no  chance. 

Grasping  the  great  bow  firmly  in  her  left  hand  she  nocked 
the  arrow  to  the  cord  and  drew  with  a  steady  easy  tension 
the  feathers  to  her  ear.  Then  she  released  the  string  and 
the  first  of  her  messages  flew,  with  a  swiftness  greater 
than  the  swiftness  of  any  bird,  out  through  the  scented 
twilight  and  vanished  into  space.  With  such  a  methodical 
tranquillity  as  her  forebear's  archers  showed  at  Cressy, 
Clarenda  picked  up  her  second  arrow  and  sent  it  hurtling 
on  its  journey  in  another  direction.  Steadily  and  swiftly 
the  third  arrow  and  the  fourth  winged  their  way  into  the 
deepening  darkness,  aimed,  so  far  as  Clarenda  could  con- 
trive it,  to  a  different  quarter  of  the  card. 

When  she  had  shot  her  last  bolt  it  seemed  to  Clarenda, 
stout-hearted  though  she  was,  that  the  warm  evening  air 
turned  suddenly  cold.  It  was  the  reaction  of  her  strained 
senses  after  their  desperate  effort  to  obtain  release  from 
the  domination  that  fascinated  and  alarmed  her,  and  as  she 
drew  back  into  the  room  she  found  to  her  fierce  chagrin, 
that  she  fell  a-shivering.  Hurriedly  she  closed  the  win- 
dow ;  hurriedly  she  hastened  to  her  bed-chamber  to  seek 
and  seek  in  vain  for  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  FLIGHT  OF  AN  ARROW 

HERCULES  was  for  the  most  part  a  man  of  a  tem- 
perate habit,  considering  his  bulk  and  vigour.  He 
could  on  occasion,  being  ashore  and  in  times  of  peace,  jol- 
lify with  the  best,  down-drink  the  thirstiest,  and  out-watch 
the  stars  with  the  most  wakeful  of  roaring  blades.  Aboard 
ship  or  in  hours  of  action  he  was  as  austere  as  any  hermit, 
and  would  rather  fight  on  a  little  bread  and  water  than  a 
deal  of  meat  and  wine.  But  the  check  he  had  just  en- 
countered fretted  him  into  unfamiliar  excess.  He  sat  late 
at  table  with  Griffith ;  the  pair  drinking  deep  and  changing 
many  tales  of  strange  adventures  to  pass  the  teasing  hours. 
Hercules  was  never  one  to  unbosom  his  troubles.  He  spoke 
no  word,  he  dropped  no  hint  concerning  his  fair  enemy,  and 
Griffith,  who  had  from  the  start  acted  as  if  the  presence  of 
Clarenda  in  the  castle  was  a  work-a-day  matter  of  course, 
made  no  comment  now  as  he  had  made  no  comment  from 
the  beginning.  But  he  could  see  that  his  friend  was  trou- 
bled, and  while  he  grieved  at  the  thought,  it  did  not  seem 
to  him  unreasonable  that  his  friend  should  seek  consola- 
tion in  abundance  of  Burgundy. 

It  was  therefore  with  a  heavier  head  as  well  as  a  heavier 
heart  than  usual  that  Hercules  paid  his  morning  duty  to 
Clarenda  on  the  morrow.  But  his  wits  were  not  so  clouded 
that  they  failed  to  note  a  kind  of  change  in  the  lady.  She 
had  returned  to  that  cold  graciousness  which  he  hoped  had 
vanished,  but  that  was  not  the  only  change  he  discovered. 

He  had  to  confess  to  himself  that  her  demeanour  puz- 
zled him  not  a  little.  There  was  an  air  of  confidence  in 
her  carriage  and  of  assurance  in  her  regard  which  was  in 
marked  contrast  to  the  vehemence  of  her  behaviour  on 
the  previous  day.  The  change  did  not  suggest  any  resigna- 
tion to  her  lot,  any  readiness  to  come  to  terms  or  to  appeal 
348 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  AN  ARROW  249 

for  freedom.  She  seemed  at  ease,  serene,  still  disdainful 
and  defiant  indeed,  but  not  with  the  disdain  and  defiance 
of  the  trapped  and  angry  captive,  but  with  the  restrained 
disdain  and  defiance  of  one  that  waits  in  composure  upon 
events. 

He  wondered  a  little  by  what  process  of  mental  argu- 
ment Clarenda  had  persuaded  or  commanded  herself  to 
change  her  mood.  But  whatever  the  reason  Hercules  was 
too  shrewd  a  student  of  humanity  to  augur  that  Clarenda 
would  be  likely  to  prove  more  compliant  in  her  new  mood 
than  in  her  old. 

After  the  civilities  of  salutation  had  been  formally  ex- 
changed, Hercules,  with  his  habitual  directness,  struck  into 
the  heart  of  the  puzzle. 

"Are  you  still  of  your  yesterday's  mind,  lady?"  he  asked 
very  gently,  for  indeed  he  was  sorely  grieved  to  think 
that  they  who  as  it  seemed  had  so  nearly  come  to  terms 
were  now  so  doggedly  at  loggerheads  again. 

Clarenda  commanded  a  smile  that  was  meant  to  exas- 
perate and  that  did  exasperate. 

"I  am  of  the  same  mind  to-day  as  I  was  yesterday,"  she 
answered.  "I  shall  be  of  the  same  mind  to-morrow  as  I 
am  to-day,  and  so  on  through  all  the  to-morrows,  till  we 
live  to  be  withered." 

Hercules  found  himself  blankly  at  a  loss  what  to  say, 
a  failing  that  was  of  unusual  happening  with  him.  He 
could  conjure  no  argument  that  might  temper  this  head- 
strong lady.  All  that  was  sayable  seemed  to  have  been 
said,  and  he  could  do  no  more  than  stare  with  what  he  felt 
to  be  a  bumpkin-like  vacancy  at  the  fair  inscrutable  face, 
defiant  and  mocking.  A  brisk  knocking  at  the  door  brought 
a  kind  of  relief  to  the  tumult  of  his  thoughts. 

Hercules  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  He  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Griffith. 

"There  is  one  below,"  said  the  Welshman,  "who  wishes 
to  have  speech  with  you.  I  think  you  would  do  well  to 
see  him  at  once." 

Hercules'  visage  showed  no  surprise  at  this  news  though 
he  felt  that,  under  the  circumstances,  it  was  probably  sur- 
prising. He  turned  back  into  the  room  and  saluted  Clar- 
enda. 


250  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"I  am  summoned  for  a  while  by  some  household  busi- 
ness," he  said.  "Have  I  your  permission  to  leave  your 
presence  ?" 

Clarenda  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"You  are  master  here,"  she  said,  "and  can  come  and 
go  as  you  please.  It  is  foolish  to  make  a  parade  of  cere- 
monial with  a  prisoner,  but,  so  far  as  I  have  any  voice 
in  the  matter,  the  less  I  have  of  your  company  the  better 
I  shall  be  pleased." 

"You  choose  to  be  severe  with  your  poor  friend,"  Her- 
cules replied  gravely.  "If  I  were  in  your  place  I  think 
I  should  act  otherwise." 

"If  I  were  in  your  place,"  said  the  girl  sharply,  "I 
should  wear  your  nature  and  should  therefore  be  as  bruitish 
and  foolish  as  you  have  proved." 

She  dipped  him  a  derisive  curtsey  and  Hercules  quitted 
the  room  in  silence. 

When  Hercules  stood  in  the  passage  with  the  door  closed 
behind  him,  Griffith  spoke  again. 

"There  came  a  fellow  to  the  gates  just  now,"  he  said, 
"a  country  fellow  of  a  somewhat  clownish  and  sullen 
humour.  He  demands  to  speak  with  the  lord  of  the 
castle." 

"Did  he  deliver  anything  of  his  business  with  me?"  asked 
Hercules. 

Griffith  shook  his  head. 

"He  will  say  nothing  of  his  need  save  to  the  lord  of 
the  castle.  That  is  the  strain  he  harps  upon.  He  carries 
an  arrow  with  him." 

"An  arrow !"  Hercules  repeated  in  some  surprise.  "What 
does  he  do  with  an  arrow?" 

"I  noted,  when  I  first  saw  him,"  answered  Griffith,  "that 
he  had  something  hidden  under  his  cloak.  So  I  made 
bold  to  examine  him,  as  gentle  as  might  be,  for  at  first 
he  seemed  unwilling.  But  I  prevailed  upon  him,  and  then 
I  discovered  that  under  the  folds  of  his  cloak  he  was 
hugging  an  arrow,  and  I  gather  that  it  is  touching  that 
same  arrow  that  the  clown  desires  to  confer  with  you." 

"This  arrow,"  said  Hercules,  "sticks  in  my  gizzard. 
What  a  devil  does  a  man  with  an  arrow  want  of  me? 
Where  is  the  fellow?" 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  AN  ARROW  251 

"I  have  set  him  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Griffith,  "and  there 
he  sits  grumbling  and  muttering  like  an  angry  cat." 

"Bring  him  to  my  room,"  Hercules  commanded.  Grif- 
fith nodded  and  departed. 

Hercules  went  his  way  to  that  corner  of  the  castle  where 
he  had  set  up  his  quarters  now  that  the  best  apartment 
had  been  surrendered  to  Clarenda.  And  as  he  went  he 
wondered,  more  than  it  was  his  wont  to  wonder  over  un- 
known matters,  what  this  business  of  the  arrow  might 
signify. 

He  had  scarcely  reached  his  room,  a  bare  simple  place 
very  modestly  furnished,  before  Griffith  rejoined  him,  con- 
voying a  burly  sunburnt  countryman  in  a  shepherd's  smock, 
who  carried  an  arrow  in  his  brown  right  hand  and  surveyed 
it  glumly.  The  moment  he  saw  Hercules  he  began  to 
speak. 

"I  have  brought  you  this  arrow "  he  said,  and  no 

more  for  the  moment,  for  Griffith  clapped  a  hairy  paw 
over  his  mouth  and  silenced  him. 

"Do  not  speak  till  you  are  spoken  to,"  Griffith  commanded. 
"Have  you  no  kind  of  manners,  countryman?" 

Hercules  laughed  at  the  indignation  of  his  henchman. 

"Men  of  the  West  Country  are  independent  folk,  and 
stand  little  upon  ceremony,"  he  said.  Then  addressing 
the  surly  shepherd  he  asked,  "Why  do  you  bring  me  your 
arrow,  friend?" 

The  shepherd  agitated  his  angry  face  from  side  to  side 
in  denial. 

"Nay,"  he  grumbled,  "it  is  no  arrow  of  mine,  and  I  wish 
I  had  never  come  acquainted  with  the  plaguey  thing.  But 
I  take  it  to  be  an  arrow  of  yours." 

"Why  do  you  take  it  to  be  an  arrow  of  mine,  friend?" 
asked  Hercules.  He  was  frowning  a  little,  not  at  the 
shepherd,  but  at  his  own  puzzled  thoughts  and  dawning 
suspicions. 

"What  other  house  is  there  in  these  parts  for  miles 
around?"  the  churl  asked  sourly,  "save  this  same  castle? 
And  if  it  be  your  arrow  I  shall  trouble  you  to  pay  for  the 
hurt  to  my  sheep." 

"Your  sheep!"  Hercules  echoed,  much  surprised. 

"Aye,"  the  man  repeated.    "I  said  my  sheep  and  I  mean 


252  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

my  sheep.  As  handsome  a  ram  as  ever  butted,  but  none 
the  handsomer  for  having  an  arrow  sticking  out  of  his 
rump." 

"Tell  your  tale  plainly,"  said  Hercules.  "In  the  first 
place,  where  found  you  this  arrow?" 

"As  I  tell  you,"  replied  the  shepherd,  "in  the  tail-end  of 
my  ram.  I  was  sitting,  last  night  as  ever  was,  snug  enough 
in  my  hut  a-watching  of  my  sheep,  when  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  saw  something  drop  from  the  air  into  the  sheep- 
fold — it  was  a  clear  starlit  night — and  thereafter  all  the 
sheep  began  to  run  about  as  if  they  were  crazy,  and  their 
bleatings  and  the  barking  of  my  dog  were  enough  to  deafen 
a  body.  Well,  I  caught  up  my  lanthorn  and  hurried  to 
the  pen,  and  there  was  my  ram  running  about  like  a  mad 
thing  with  a  new  tail  to  him  and  this  tail  was  no  other 
than  this  same  arrow  that  I  hold  in  my  hand.  I  take  it 
that  the  bolt  was  well-nigh  spent  when  it  came  my  way 
or  it  would  have  killed  the  poor  innocent  beast  for  cer- 
tain. But  he  is  none  the  better  for  his  hurt  and  I  call 
upon  you  to  make  good  to  me." 

"Here  is  a  strange  tale,"  said  Hercules.  "But  what 
makes  you  think  that  it  is  my  arrow  or  that  I  and  mine  have 
no  better  business  to  mind  than  to  go  shooting  arrows  at 
all  adventure  into  your  sheep-fold?" 

"There  is  no  accounting  for  the  humours  of  great  folk," 
said  the  shepherd  gruffly,  "nor  how  they  may  please  to 
divert  themselves.  But  whoever  fired  that  arrow  had  a 
reason  for  the  shot,  and  here,  as  I  take  it,  the  reason  is." 

As  the  shepherd  spoke  he  pulled  off  his  hat  and  drew 
from  it  a  piece  of  folded  paper  that  had  been  torn  asunder. 

"This  piece  of  paper  travelled  with  the  arrow,"  said 
the  shepherd.  "It  carries  writing  with  it,  but  I  am  no 
scholar  and  know  not  its  meaning.  Belike  your  honour  is 
wiser  than  I." 

A  curious  smile  had  floated  over  Hercules'  face  when 
the  shepherd  produced  the  paper,  and  he  nodded  his  head 
as  one  that  begins  to  understand  a  riddle. 

"Give  me  that  paper,  my  honest  friend,"  he  said.  "I 
make  no  doubt  that  I  shall  have  skill  to  decipher  it,  if 
it  be  written  in  any  familiar  speech." 

He  held  out  his  hand  as  he  spoke,  and  the  shepherd, 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  AN  ARROW  253 

with  some  reluctance,  consented  to  transfer  the  piece  of 
paper  from  his  custody  to  that  of  Hercules. 

"Touching  that  ram  of  which  I  spoke  to  your  honour," 
he  hinted. 

"Have  no  fear,"  said  Hercules.  "If  this  arrow  came 
from  this  house,  as  indeed  I  begin  to  believe,  good  gaffer 
ram  shall  be  satisfied,  I  promise  you." 

As  he  spoke  Hercules  carefully  unfolded  the  torn  and 
soiled  piece  of  paper,  smoothed  it  out  on  the  table  before 
him,  and  read  its  contents  in  one  rapid  glance.  Then  he 
burst  into  a  great  fit  of  laughter  that  startled  the  shepherd 
and  made  Griffith  stare  at  his  friend,  as  if  eager  to  share 
his  entertainment.  Hercules  thrust  his  hand  into  his 
pouch  and  produced  a  gold  coin. 

"Here,"  he  said,  tendering  the  piece  to  the  shepherd, 
who  took  it  eagerly,  "is  an  ointment  to  heal  your  ram's 
hurt.  I  recognise  this  arrow  as  mine  and  I  know  who 
winged  it.  It  was  all  done  in  jest,  good  shepherd,  so  make 
my  apologies  to  honest  gaffer  ram.  And  so  good  morning 
to  you." 

The  shepherd,  fondling  his  gold  coin  affectionately  and 
stuttering  a  profusion  of  thanks,  was  escorted  from  the 
room  by  Griffith  and  dismissed  from  the  castle,  to  return 
to  his  sheep  with  a  lighter  heart  than  he  bore  when  he 
had  quitted  them.  Griffith,  eager  for  knowledge  as  to  the 
arrow  and  the  cause  of  Hercules'  mirth,  hurried  back  to 
the  room  he  had  just  left,  only  to  find  that  Hercules  was 
no  longer  there. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

A    COURTLY    COMEDY 

Clarenda  was  left  alone  she  turned  to  the  open 
window  and,  leaning  there,  looked  out  over  the  waste 
of  moorland,  spreading  to  the  distance,  like  an  illimitable 
sea.  The  lonely  beauty  of  the  prospect  had  no  charm  for 
her.  It  seemed  only  to  emphasise  her  bitter  sense  of  cap- 
tivity, but  it  had  the  further  effect  of  sharpening  her  long- 
ing for  her  lost  liberty.  Gazing  over  the  green  space  be- 
low her  she  was  wondering  whither  her  last  night's  archery 
had  carried,  when  the  sound  of  footsteps  in  the  room  roused 
her  from  her  meditations  and  she  turned  to  find  herself 
again  face  to  face  with  Hercules  Flood.  His  face  was 
radiant  with  smiles,  his  eyes  were  bright  with  mirth,  as  if 
he  had  just  heard  the  best  news  or  the  best  joke  in  the 
world.  His  left  hand,  carried  behind  his  back,  held  some 
object  which  she  could  not  see. 

Clarenda  stared  indignantly  at  the  smiling  face  of  her 
captor. 

"Am  I  never  to  be  left  in  peace?"  she  asked  angrily. 

"I  entreat  your  forgiveness,"  said  Hercules,  "if  I  ap- 
pear before  you  so  soon  again,  but  I  have  something  to 
show  you  which  I  hope  may  amuse  you  as  much  as  it  has 
amused  me." 

As  he  spoke  he  brought  his  left  hand  forward.  It  was 
holding  an  arrow,  which  Hercules  dropped  on  the  floor  at 
Clarenda's  feet. 

"I  seem  to  make  a  habit,"  Hercules  said  pleasantly, 
"of  offering  you  pointed  weapons." 

Clarenda  flushed  hotly  and  her  heart  seemed  to  beat 
with  such  vehemence  that  she  could  not  command  her 
speech.  It  was  plain  that  one  of  her  winged  messengers 
had  come  home  to  roost. 

"I  admire  your  wit,"  Hercules  continued ;  "I  applaud  your 
254 


A  COURTLY  COMEDY  255 

ingenuity."  As  he  spoke  he  drew  from  his  pouch  the  mis- 
sive which  had  been  attached  to  the  arrow  and  showed  it 
to  her.  "It  is  a  pity  that  your  message  went  no  further 
than  the  leg  of  a  ram  and  the  hand  of  a  letterless  shep- 
herd." 

Clarenda  would  have  liked  dearly  to  dash  her  clenched 
fist  into  the  drolling  face  before  her.  But  she  controlled 
her  itching  fingers  and  forced  herself  to  speak  with  a 
relatively  calm  utterance. 

"You  deceive  yourself,"  she  said,  "if  you  think  that  I 
have  shot  my  only  bolt  or  that  I  am  heart-broken  over 
your  taunts  at  a  single  failure." 

"Indeed  I  do  not  taunt  you,"  Hercules  replied.  "In  all 
honesty  I  admire  your  cunning,  which  deserved,  at  least  in 
this  instance," — and  as  he  spoke  he  pushed  with  his  foot 
the  arrow  where  it  lay  on  the  floor — "a  better  success. 
May  I  ask  how  many  shafts  so  freighted  you  have  dis- 
patched?" 

"You  may  ask,"  said  Clarenda,  "but  I  shall  not  tell  you. 
Find  out  for  yourself  if  you  can." 

Hercules  made  her  a  grave  bow. 

"I  shall  do  my  endeavour,"  he  assured  her.  "But  I 
think  that  in  the  meantime  I  must  put  a  ban  upon  your 
archery  practice." 

He  straightway  did  what  Clarenda  had  done  the  previous 
evening.  He  drew  a  chair  to  the  wall  and  mounting  on 
it  brought  down  the  bows  and  arrows  and  made  a  bundle 
of  them  under  his  arm,  while  Clarenda  watched  him  in 
silence. 

Then  he  again  addressed  her. 

"Lady,"  he  said,  "I  will  never  consent  to  call  you  an 
enemy  whatever  you  may  choose  to  call  me.  But  I  will 
say  this  much,  that  you  make  a  gallant  antagonist,  and 
that  if  a  nimble  wit  could  set  you  free  you  would  very 
soon  be  at  liberty.  Yet  I  entreat  you  to  remember  that 
your  best  path  to  freedom  lies  by  the  way  of  the  altar,  the 
benediction  and  the  consent  which  are,  as  one  might  say, 
the  A  B  C  of  the  prologue  to  a  happy  matrimony." 

Clarenda  made  a  grimace. 

"I  do  not  think  you  will  be  so  merry,"  she  said,  "when 
you  stand  beneath  the  gallows  with  the  rope  about  your 


256  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

neck  and  the  parson  is  buzzing  his  homilies  into  your 
ears.  You  will,  as  I  hope,  be  too  busy  in  looking  at  my 
laughing  face." 

"You  have  a  high  spirit,"  Hercules  commented  with  a 
smile.  "Lord,  what  a  noble  pair  we  should  make.  I  swear 
that  her  gracious  Majesty  could  do  no  better  deed  than 
to  give  us  some  fat  island  of  the  Indies  wherein  we  might 
reign  as  king  and  queen." 

Clarenda  glared  at  him  with  a  fury  which  Hercules 
deprecated  with  a  wave  of  his  disengaged  right  arm. 

"I  will  say  no  more  on  that  head  just  now,"  he  politely 
protested,  "and  I  will  leave  you  to  your  reflections  for  the 
present.  Will  you  in  the  meantime,  I  beseech  you,  tell 
me  if  there  is  anything  I  can  do  that  will  serve  to  add  to 
your  comfort?" 

"I  suppose,"  Clarenda  said,  "it  would  be  idle  for  me  to 
suggest  that  you  should  anticipate  the  stroke  of  justice  and 
hang  yourself  out  of  hand." 

Hercules  agreed  cheerfully. 

"That  would  be  quite  useless,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "the 
only  halter  for  which  my  neck  has  a  fancy  is  the  marriage 
noose." 

"You  are  truly  a  fellow  of  one  idea,"  Clarenda  com- 
mented contemptuously.  "I  protest  it  is  almost  a  pity  that 
you  should  be  baulked." 

"Only  I  do  not  mean  to  be  baulked,"  retorted  Hercules. 
"When  you  have  had  leisure  for  consideration  I  will  wager 
my  emerald  thumb-ring  against  the  least  pin  about  your 
person,  that  you  will  think  better  of  my  wooing.  And 
once  again,  is  there  anything,  apart  from  this  chat  about 
halters,  that  I  can  do  to  pleasure  you?" 

"Why,  for  the  matter  of  that,"  Clarenda  answered,  "if 
you  have  any  books  in  this  gaunt  place  I  could  contrive 
to  divert  myself  until  my  freedom  comes  along." 

"Books !"  said  Hercules,  and  shook  his  head  somewhat 
solemnly.  "I  fear  me  that  we  are  not  enriched  with  a 
library  as  yet.  I  marvel  that  Philemon  did  not  think  of  it, 
but  indeed  I  have,  in  all  my  life,  had  little  leisure  or  in- 
clination for  reading." 

Even  as  he  was  speaking  the  name  of  Philemon  recalled 
something  to  his  memory  and  he  slipped  his  hand  into 


A  COURTLY  COMEDY  257 

the  breast  of  his  doublet,  and  drew  out  a  small  and  rather 
crumpled  pamphlet. 

"I  have  here,  indeed,"  he  said  doubtfully,  "a  certain 
small  book  which  a  friend  of  mine  who  is  wise  in  such 
matters  assures  me  is  most  excellent  reading  though  I 
have  not  yet  verified  his  assurance.  I  fear  me  J  have  used 
the  cover,  so  I  cannot  tell  you  the  author's  name,  but  truly 
that  is  of  little  moment.  It  is  what  a  man  does,  not  what 
he  is  called,  that  should  count  in  this  world." 

As  he  spoke  he  handed  the  little  book  to  Clarenda,  who 
received  it  disdainfully  and  laid  it  upon  the  table  hard  by. 
Then  he  made  her  another  ceremonious  bow  and  left  the 
room. 

Clarenda  remained  for  a  little  while  looking  after  him  and 
wondering  for  the  thousandth  time  why  it  had  pleased 
Providence  in  its  wisdom  to  bring  her  into  the  way  of 
this  madman  and  thus  deliver  her  into  his  power.  Then, 
because  she  had  nothing  better  to  do,  she  picked  up  the 
paper  book  and  began  to  read  in  it,  at  first  with  an  air  of 
contempt  but  soon  with  a  livelier  interest.  It  was  a  play- 
book,  it  was  a  comedy,  and  the  characters  amused  her, 
and  she  liked  their  courtly  language  and  their  courtly  hu- 
mour. She  was  so  deep  in  the  concerns  of  the  King  of 
Navarre  and  his  misogyny,  and  the  interruption  of  Rosa- 
line, that,  for  a  while,  she  forgot  her  cares. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

PHILEMON  INTERVENES 

THE  mind  of  Hercules  was  not  so  devoid  of  care  as 
he  could  have  wished  it  to  be,  when  in  the  solitude 
of  his  chamber  he  meditated  upon  his  position.  Not  since 
the  days  when  a  shepherd  who  was  a  King's  son  carried 
off  by  force  or  favour  the  Daughter  of  the  Swan,  had 
abductor  been  more  flustered.  Though  he  had  undoubt- 
edly, in  this  adventure,  allowed  his  emotions  to  dominate 
his  reason  to  a  degree  that  was  very  unusual  with  him,  he 
still  believed,  as  he  had  believed  in  the  hour  of  action, 
that  he  had  acted  for  the  best.  He  was  aware,  when  he 
planned  to  kidnap,  that  he  ran  a  grave  risk,  but  he  chose 
to  run  that  risk,  first  because  he  was  too  hotly  in  love  to 
give  up  the  woman  whom  he  called  his  woman,  and  sec- 
ondly because  he  was  confident  that  a  little  breathing  space 
would  suffice  to  enable  him  to  win  wholly  what  was  half  won 
already.  Even  now  neither  the  stubbornness  of  Clarenda's 
renewed  refusal  nor  the  craft  of  her  subterfuge  served 
much  to  dash  his  spirits.  He  entertained  a  hearty  admira- 
tion of  the  girl's  cunning  and  he  still  cherished  a  whole- 
some conviction  that  time  and  assiduity  would  still  over- 
come the  girl's  refusal. 

The  only  matter  that  troubled  him  was  the  too  early 
bruiting  abroad  of  the  fact  that  Clarenda  was  in  captivity 
at  Mountdragon.  He  had  known  of  course  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  business  that  he  could  not  hope  to  keep  the 
fact  of  her  imprisonment  indefinitely  concealed,  but  he 
plumed  himself  upon  the  wariness  of  the  precautions  he 
had  taken  to  keep  it  close  as  long  as  possible.  And  now 
this  business  of  the  arrows  seemed  to  threaten  the  possi- 
bility of  a  revelation  much  too  early  for  his  interests. 

The  first  thing  to  learn  was  the  fate  of  the  flown  arrows. 
Hercules  had  guessed,  from  an  examination  of  the  quiver, 
258 


PHILEMON  INTERVENES  259 

that  four  had  been  launched.  He  had  promptly  sent  a 
pair  of  retainers  to  beat  the  moor  in  search  of  the  missives 
but  neither  of  his  emissaries  had  yet  returned  and  Hercules 
sat  moodily  enough  in  solitude,  wondering  if  indeed  his 
adventure  were  drifting  towards  unforeseen  and  detestable 
catastrophe. 

While  he  was  thus  drenched  in  reflections,  like  a  River 
God  in  his  stream,  Griffith  entered  the  room  and  dissipated 
the  mood  with  news  that  Philemon  Minster  was  on  horse- 
back at  the  Dragon's  Head  and  desired  to  speak  with  him. 

"Admit  him,"  he  cried  with  alacrity,  welcoming  the  ti- 
dings. But  when  Griffith  had  departed  he  fell  to  musing 
as  to  how  Philemon  had  discovered  that  he  had  betaken 
himself  to  Mountdragon.  These  musings  were  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  Philemon  himself,  escorted  by  Griffith, 
who  immediately  quitted  the  room  and  left  the  two  men 
alone  together. 

The  quick  glance  of  Hercules  instantly  informed  him 
that  for  some  reason  or  other  all  was  not  well  with  Phile- 
mon. As  he  entered  the  room  his  limp  was  more  pro- 
nounced, as  was  always  the  case  when  he  was  under  the 
influence  of  some  strong  emotion.  Also  his  face  was  drawn 
and  pale,  and  the  thin  scholarly  lips  were  tightly  set  and 
the  high  scholarly  brow  was  furrowed. 

Hercules  greeted  his  friend  with  outstretched  hand,  but 
Philemon  did  not  accept  the  preferred  clasp. 

"I  have  sought  you  to-day,"  he  said  slowly,  with  the 
air  of  one  who  weighs  his  words,  "on  a  matter  of  some 
gravity." 

"So  I  should  judge  from  your  countenance,"  Hercules 
answered,  viewing  him  quizzically.  "You  are  as  solemn 
as  if  you  were  going  to  preach  me  a  sermon."  He  paused 
for  a  moment,  and  then  added,  with  a  shrewd  glance  at  his 
friend's  face,  "Perhaps  you  are." 

Philemon  was  not  to  be  moved  from  his  formality  by 
his  friend's  banter. 

"I  am  come,"  he  said,  "not  to  preach  you  a  sermon  but 
to  ask  you  a  question." 

"Ask  what  you  will,  dear  Philemon,  and  I  will  give  you 
an  answer  if  I  can." 

He  .had  already  begun  to  guess  what  was  coming,  and 


260  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Philemon's  question,  when  it  was  put,  did  not  take  him 
by  surprise. 

"Is  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant  a  prisoner  in  this  cas- 
tle?" Philemon  asked,  with  his  grave  eyes  fixed  on  the 
face  of  Hercules. 

Hercules  whistled  a  few  bars  of  a  sea-song,  surveying 
Philemon  the  while  with  a  smiling  face.  Then  instead  of 
directly  replying  he  retorted  with  another  question. 

"Has  an  arrow  come  your  way  by  any  chance  ?" 

Philemon  nodded. 

"I  was  riding  on  the  moors  this  morning,"  he  said,  "and 
went  further  afield  than  is  my  wont,  with,  it  may  be,  some 
faint  purpose  to  look  at  Mountdragon.  As  I  rode  I  came 
upon  an  arrow  lying  upon  the  grass." 

"And  to  that  arrow,"  said  Hercules  cheerfully,  "a  piece 
of  paper  was  attached." 

"Yes,"  said  Philemon,  "a  piece  of  folded  paper  which 
I  opened  and  read." 

He  thrust  his  hand  into  the  breast  of  his  doublet  as  he 
spoke,  and  brought  forth  another  of  Clarenda's  missives. 
Hercules  greeted  the  familiar  object  with  a  smile. 

"Shall  I  read  you  the  letter?"  Philemon  asked.  Her- 
cules made  a  deprecatory  gesture. 

"You  may  spare  yourself  the  pains,"  he  said,  "for  I'll 
wager  that  I  know  the  contents." 

"In  that  case,"  pursued  Philemon,  "I  have  to  repeat  my 
former  question,  though*  indeed  I  fear  me  it  is  already 
answered.  Is  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant  a  prisoner  in 
this  castle?" 

"Dear  Philemon,"  said  Hercules,  with  great  urbanity, 
"if  any  other  but  yourself  made  bold  to  ask  me  such  a 
question  I  should  very  probably  tell  him  to  go  to  the  devil, 
and  very  possibly  assist  him  in  that  direction  if  he  per- 
sisted in  his  curiosity.  But  with  you  it  is  different,  and 
so  without  any  further  beating  about  the  bush,  I  will 
answer  you  frankly  with  a  yes." 

A  look  of  stern  reproach  stiffened  Philemon's  features 
and  there  was  a  rising  anger  in  his  voice. 

"Though  I  feared  that  answer  before  I  came  here,"  he 
said,  "and  though  I  expected  it  since  I  came  here,  I  still 
do  not  find  that  I  am  answered.  Do  you  really  mean  me 


PHILEMON  INTERVENES  261 

to  believe  that  you  are  holding  this  young  gentlewoman 
here  against  her  will,  that  you  are  making  her  a  prisoner?" 

"I  am  holding  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant  here  against 
her  will,"  Hercules  agreed  composedly.  Philemon's  cheeks 
reddened  with  indignation. 

"Have  you  gone  mad?"  he  cried,  "that  you  can  commit 
such  villainy?  I  can  hardly  believe  your  admission." 

"Yet  it  is  true,  none  the  less,"  Hercules  replied  with  the 
same  amiable  candour.  "I  had  not  wished  the  matter  to 
be  blown  abroad  thus  early,  but  the  young  lady — I  must 
say  it  to  her  credit — was  too  clever  for  me  and  her  device 
of  the  arrows  has,  in  a  manner,  interfered  with  my  plans." 

"Great  God !"  protested  Philemon.  "Do  I  stand  here  and 
listen  while  one  that  was  my  dear  friend  confesses  him- 
self guilty  of  such  infamy  with  so  much  coolness?" 

"One  that  was  your  dear  friend,"  Hercules  repeated 
reproachfully.  "I  hope  I  am  still  your  dear  friend,  Phile- 
mon, and  shall  ever  continue  so  to  be.  But  I  would  have 
you  to  note  that  I  do  not  confess  myself  guilty  of  any 
infamy." 

"Do  you  play  with  words?"  said  Philemon.  "What  has 
come  to  you  that  you  carry  yourself  thus?  You  admit 
that  you  hold  an  honourable  gentlewoman  prisoner  in  your 
house,  that  she  is  forced  to  make  her  piteous  appeal  against 
you,  and  yet  you  have  the  boldness  to  maintain  that  your 
conduct  is  not  infamous." 

"Dear  friend,"  said  Hercules  quietly,  "because  you  are 
Philemon  Minster,  whom  I  love,  I  listen  to  your  questions, 
reproofs  and  judgments  with  a  patience  which  I  think  is 
not  uncommendable.  But  if  I  do  not  answer  all  your  ques- 
tions, or  accept  all  your  reproofs,  or  admit  all  your  judg- 
ments, the  reason  is,  if  I  may  say  so  without  offence,  that 
you  do  not  happen  to  know  what  you  are  talking  about." 

"I  know,"  said  Philemon  hotly,  "that  a  young  and  beauti- 
ful maid  is  at  this  present,  by  an  act  of  violence,  a  captive 
in  your  power,  very  desperately  against  her  will,  and  that 
this  is  a  deed,  at  once  as  cowardly  as  base,  which  I  could 
never  have  believed  that  the  Hercules  Flood  whom  I  loved, 
aye,  and  worshipped,  could  have  committed." 

"I  am  glad,"  said  Hercules  in  the  same  even  tone,  "to 
know  that  I  have  had  your  good  opinion  in  the  past.  I  am 


262  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

grieved  to  hear  that  I  have  it  not  in  the  present  and  ap- 
parently shall  not  have  it  in  the  future.  But  I  would  still 
suggest  to  you,  dear  Philemon,  that  this  is  a  brawl,  or  a 
quarrel,  or  a  duello,  or  whatever  you  may  be  pleased  to 
call  it,  between  one  man  and  one  woman,  with  which  you 
have  nothing  whatever  to  do." 

"I  take  leave  to  disagree,"  cried  Philemon.  "A  man  is 
rash  who  intervenes  in  a  dispute  between  man  and  wife, 
but  this  is  not  the  case  here,  as  I  take  it.  You  are  not 
wedded  to  Mistress  Constant." 

"I  am  not  wedded  to  Mistress  Constant,"  said  Hercules 
tranquilly,  "but  I  am  going  to  wed  her  very  shortly." 

"Do  you  mean,"  cried  Philemon  in  a  white  fire  of  wrath, 
"that  you  are  going  to  shame  her  into  marriage  with  you  ?" 

"Dear  Philemon,"  Hercules  answered  gently,  "I  mean 
what  I  say  and  I  mean  no  more  than  I  say.  I  am  sorry 
that  you  ever  blundered  into  this  business,  and  I  should 
advise  you  to  blunder  out  of  it  again  as  quickly  as  may 
be,  for  it  is  very  plain  that  you  do  not  understand  Mistress 
Clarenda  Constant,  and  that  you  do  not  understand  me." 

"Very  certainly  I  do  not  understand  you,"  retorted  Phile- 
mon, "but  very  certainly  I  understand  this  much  concern- 
ing Mistress  Clarenda  Constant,  that  she  is  in  captivity 
and  that  she  cries  for  her  liberty  to  all  honourable  men, 
and  that  I  am  glad  to  think  that  I  still  call  myself  an 
honourable  man." 

"And  what,"  asked  Hercules  in  a  slightly  bantering 
voice,  "does  your  honourability  propose  to  do  in  the  mat- 
ter?" 

"I  propose,"  replied  Philemon,  "to  lay  this  letter  before 
the  Mayor  and  justices  of  Plymouth,  with  all  the  informa- 
tion I  can  give  as  to  this  infamous  abduction,  and  to  stir 
all  the  strength  of  the  law  for  the  rescue  of  this  lady." 

"Do  you  indeed,"  retorted  Hercules.  "You  certainly 
play  a  bold  game  seeing  that  you  are  at  this  present  within 
the  walls  of  my  dwelling." 

"Hercules,  Hercules,"  said  Philemon,  with  a  sob  in  his 
voice,  "I  am  indeed  in  your  power,  and  if  you  have  a  craze 
for  making  prisoners  there  is  no  more  to  be  said.  But 
I  warn  you  face  to  face  that  I  am  not  so  simple  as  you 
seem  to  think.  When  I  found  the  poor  lady's  appeal  this 


PHILEMON  INTERVENES  263 

morning  I  rode  straight  back  to  Plymouth  and  wrote  divers 
copies  of  her  letter  which  I  placed  in  such  hands  to  be  made 
public  if  I  were  not  returned  to  my  dwelling  by  a  certain 
hour.  So  you  can  do  what  you  please  to  me,  for  I  truly 
believe  that  the  safety  of  the  lady  is  assured." 

Hercules  surveyed  Philemon  with  a  gravity  dappled  with 
amusement.  Here  was  a  man  that  compared  to  himself 
was  as  a  straw  compared  to  an  oak,  and  yet  this  trifle  could 
beard  him,  could  defy  him,  could,  for  the  moment  at  least, 
defeat  him.  But  indeed  it  was  no  news  to  Hercules  Flood 
that  it  was  not  brawn  and  muscle  alone  that  sufficed  to 
govern  the  world.  The  cunning  of  a  stripling,  he  might 
have  reminded  himself,  as  expressed  by  a  stone  in  a  sling, 
was  sufficient  for  the  undoing  of  a  giant.  Very  promptly 
he  prepared  himself  to  make  the  best  of  the  situation. 

"Philemon,"  he  said,  "you  ought  to  know  me  better  than 
to  believe  that  I  would  molest  you  in  any  way,  although 
it  may  please  you  to  molest  me  in  a  matter  of  which  you 
are  pitifully  ignorant.  But  I  can  assure  you  that  you  are 
free  to  go  hence  as  you  were  free  to  come  hither,  and  that 
when  you  have  crossed  my  threshold  I  shall  do  my  en- 
deavour not  to  bear  you  a  grudge  for  making  a  fool  of 
yourself." 

"You  speak  like  a  riddling  sphinx,"  cried  Philemon  im- 
patiently. "Answer  me  this  one  question  and  by  your 
answer  I  will  abide.  If  Mistress  Clarenda  were  in  this 
room  at  this  moment  and  knew  that  it  rested  with  her  to 
go  forth  into  freedom  with  me,  or  to  rest  here  in  captivity 
with  you,  which  course  would  she  follow?" 

"Undoubtedly,"  replied  Hercules,  with  the  unruffled  good- 
humour  that  he  had  maintained  during  the  whole  of  the 
interview,  "Mistress  Clarenda  would  decide  to  go  with 
you." 

"I  am  answered,"  said  Philemon,  "and  there  is  no  more 
to  be  said.  I  go  hence,  Master  Flood,  in  the  full  resolution 
to  do  all  that  is  in  my  power  to  rescue  this  unhappy  lady." 

"Go  in  peace,"  observed  Hercules  calmly,  and  with  that 
benediction  ringing  in  his  ears,  Philemon  quitted  the  room 
and  the  castle  and  made  his  way  as  speedily  as  he  might 
in  the  direction  of  Plymouth  town. 

When   Philemon    found   himself   riding  again   over   the 


264  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

moor  with  the  bewildering  memories  of  the  morning  hum- 
ming in  his  head,  he  took  his  emotional  spirit  by  the  throat, 
as-it  were,  and  compelled  it  to  consideration.  Now  that 
he  knew  for  sure  from  Hercules'  admission  that  Clarenda 
Constant  was  indeed  a  prisoner  at  Mountdragon  he  as- 
sured himself  that  it  was  his  duty,  as  regarded  the  effect- 
ing of  her  release,  to  act  with  all  possible  circumspection. 
He  had  talked  big  to  Hercules  of  an  appeal  to  authority 
in  Plymouth,  but  now,  in  the  sobriety  of  his  lonely  ride, 
he  thought  better  of  that  particular  enterprise.  It  was  not 
merely  Clarenda's  person — so  he  reflected — that  was  to  be 
redeemed  from  Mountdragon :  it  was  her  good  name  that 
was  likewise  to  be  rescued  unsullied.  This  was  impossible 
if  the  good  town  were  roused ;  wherefore  Philemon,  in  his 
prudence,  bethought  him  of  my  lady  of  Gylford  and  re- 
solved with  all  immediate  speed  to  wait  upon  her  and  make 
her  acquainted  with  the  facts  of  the  case. 

When  Philemon  arrived  at  King's  Welcome  and  informed 
the  majordomo  that  he  desired  speech  with  her  ladyship 
on  a  matter  of  urgent  moment,  his  wish  was  gratified  after 
a  very  brief  delay.  He  was  ushered  into  the  old  lady's 
presence  and  found  her  seated  in  conclave  with  three  gen- 
tlemen, whom  he  immediately  recognised  as  the  opponents 
of  Hercules  on  an  earlier  day.  The  three  gentlemen  rose 
to  their  feet,  observing  him  curiously.  Before  he  could 
utter  a  word  Lady  Gylford,  guessing  what  must  be  the 
business  of  any  urgent  visitor,  had  questioned  him,  shrilly 
imperious. 

"In  God's  name,  sir,"  she  cried,  "have  you  come  here 
to  speak  of  my  ward?" 

"I  bring  ill  news  of  Mistress  Constant,"  Philemon  an- 
swered. Then,  with  all  convenient  brevity,  he  told  his 
strange  tale,  to  which  his  audience  barkened  with  darken- 
ing faces  and  angry  eyes.  He  had  barely  spoken  his  last 
word  when  Sir  Batty  broke  into  a  rage  of  imprecation,  very 
strange  to  his  companions  who  knew  his  familiar  calm. 

"Let  us  rouse  the  countryside,"  he  cried  at  last,  after 
he  had  eased  his  heat  a  little.  "Let  us  summon  the  gentle- 
men of  Devon  to  a  leaguer  that  we  may  take  this  castle 
by  storm  and  hang  its  master  before  his  own  door." 

Winwood  and  Willoughby,  carried  away  by  the  news  and 


PHILEMON  INTERVENES  265 

the  vehemence  of  their  friend,  seemed  to  be  very  much 
of  his  mind  and  temper,  but  Lady  Gylford  promptly  blew 
cool  upon  their  impulse. 

"Gently,  sirs,  gently,"  she  admonished.  "I  commend 
your  spirit,  but  I  would  have  you  to  recall  that  we  have 
this  mad,  unhappy  girl's  good  name  to  consider.  If  we 
had  to  go  warily  before  and  avoid  bruiting  abroad  the  fact 
of  her  disappearance,  we  must  go  more  warily  still  now 
that  we  learn  of  her  whereabouts.  Rouse  the  countryside 
and  you  may  indeed  set  the  damsel  free,  but,  to  my  mind, 
she  will  be  a  stained  maid  in  the  public  judgment." 

The  others  agreed,  as  they  could  not  help  doing,  with 
the  wisdom  of  the  old  lady's  words,  which  jumped  with 
Philemon's  opinion,  and  the  company  set  to  work  to  devise 
some  shrewder  counsel.  After  a  little  talk  it  was  decided 
that  Philemon — this  was  his  awn  request — should  ride 
instantly  at  hot  speed  to  London  to  carry  the  ill  tidings 
to  my  lord  of  Godalming,  and  be  guided  by  the  ripeness 
of  his  mind.  In  the  meantime  Sir  Batty,  accompanied  by 
his  friends,  should  hasten  to  Mountdragon,  under  a  flag 
of  truce,  as  it  were.  There  Sir  Batty  should  demand  in 
the  Queen's  name — finding  justification  for  this  in  being 
a  Court  officer — speech  with  Hercules  Flood,  call  for  the 
surrender  of  the  damsel  and  failing  this,  try  to  obtain 
sight  of  Clarenda  and  assurance  that  she  was  well  treated. 

This  plan  of  campaign  had  been  scarcely  formulated 
before  it  was  put  into  execution.  Philemon  drained  a 
goblet  of  wine  to  hearten  him  for  the  start  of  his  long 
journey,  and  within  a  few  minutes  the  four  gentlemen 
were  a-horseback  in  the  courtyard  of  King's  Welcome  and 
my  lady  Gylford  standing  on  the  threshold  to  wish  them 
God-speed  in  the  business.  Each  of  the  gentlemen  from 
Willoughby  Homing  was  attended  by  an  armed  and  mounted 
servant.  Philemon,  because  of  the  haste  with  which  he  had 
taken  action,  travelled  alone.  The  party  rode  for  a  while 
together,  the  gentlemen  interchanging  little  speech,  for  their 
thoughts  were  too  hot  and  wild  to  find  easy  expression. 
Presently  at  a  point  of  the  main  road  they  divided,  Phile- 
mon spurring  headlong  eastward  with  London  for  his  goal, 
and  the  party  from  Willoughby  Homing  galloping  at  full 
speed  over  the  moors  in  the  direction  of  Mountdragon. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

MINE  ENEMY  AT  THE  GATE 

BY  the  time  that  the  three  gentlemen  came  within  sigh! 
of  Mountdragon  Sir  Batty  had  recaptured  his  habitual 
nonchalance  and  his  face  carried  its  wonted  mask  of  calm. 
He  had  neither  spoken  nor  halted  since  the  parting  from 
Philemon,  but  now  at  the  first  view  of  the  castle  he  drew 
bridle  and  his  companions  did  the  like.  The  three  servants 
who  had  kept  at  an  even  distance  behind  their  masters  dur- 
ing the  gallop  across  the  moor,  now  halted  in  their  turn  and 
sat  huddled  together  wondering,  it  may  be,  as  to  their  er- 
rand and  waiting  on  command,  and  very  certainly  sur- 
veying the  stronghold  with  more  indifference  than  their 
superiors.  To  these  indeed  Mountdragon  was  of  stagger- 
ing concern.  Sir  Batty  had  never  seen  the  fort  before, 
and  till  that  day  had  never  heard  of  it.  Spencer  Winwood 
was  in  like  case.  Jack  Willoughby  knew  indeed  that  there 
was  an  old  ruined  castle  on  a  tor  in  the  moorland.  Thanks, 
however,  to  his  absence  in  London  and  the  slow  travel  of 
news  across  the  country,  he  had  no  knowledge  of  its  re- 
juvenation, and  he  stared  at  it  in  consequence  with  more 
astonishment  than  either  of  his  friends. 

The  ancient  keep  of  Mountdragon,  which  Philemon  Min- 
ster had  been  at  such  pains  to  patch  up  and  make  habitable, 
stood  on  the  summit  of  a  high  tor  of  a  peculiarly  rugged 
and  inaccessible  character.  At  a  little  distance  from  it,  in 
the  direct  line  between  Mountdragon  and  Plymouth,  an- 
other hill  of  equal  height  swelled  from  the  level  of  the 
moorland  at  a  very  gentle  angle  till  its  crest  faced  the  alti- 
tude on  which  the  builders  of  Mountdragon  had  set  their 
foundations.  At  this  point  the  approaching  slope,  whether 
by  some  cataclysm  of  nature  or  by  the  handiwork  of  man, 
broke  sheer  away  into  a  wall-like  face,  leaving  a  great  gap 
of  flat  moorland  that  formed  a  kind  of  moat  between  itself 
266 


MINE  ENEMY  AT  THE  GATE  267 

and  the  rugged  and  well-nigh  impregnable  mound  upon 
which  Mountdragon  was  perched.  This  great  gap  was 
originally  spanned,  by  those  that  first  builded  Mountdragon, 
by  a  drawbridge  which  united  the  main  gate  of  the  castle 
with  the  summit  of  the  hill  that  so  suddenly  ceased  to  be 
a  hill.  This  drawbridge  Philemon  in  his  task  of  restora- 
tion had  recreated,  a  light  and  easily  workable  bridge  that 
one  man  could  handle  and  that  linked  the  two  hills.  The 
hill  on  which  the  castle  stood  was  popularly  known  as  the 
Dragon's  Hump,  and  that  to  which  the  drawbridge  extended 
was  called  the  Dragon's  Head. 

Now  Sir  Batty  spoke. 

"I  make  little  doubt,"  he  said,  "that  I  shall  be  admitted 
into  yonder  castle  and  afforded  speech  with  its  rascal  master, 
but  it  is  less  likely  that  we  shall  all  be  suffered  to  enter. 
My  actions  within  must  needs  be  guided  by  circumstance, 
but  if  it  should  chance  that  the  great  gate  be  left  open 
hold  yourselves  in  readiness,  on  a  summons  from  me,  to 
make  a  dash  for  entry." 

He  did  not  wait  for  any  answer  from  his  companions, 
but  taking  agreement  as  implicit  with  direction,  he  put 
spurs  to  his  horse  and  the  cavalcade  quickly  covered  the 
space  between  it  and  Mountdragon.  As  the  horsemen  ap- 
proached the  top  of  the  gap  between  the  Head  and  the 
Hump  they  reined  up  at  some  little  distance  from  the  edge. 
Sir  Batty,  advancing  to  the  platform,  drew  from  his  bosom 
his  kerchief  and  fluttered  it  in  the  air  above  his  head, 
symbolic  of  the  concerted  flag  of  truce. 

Almost  instantly  the  black  head  of  Griffith  appeared  in 
the  aperture  by  the  side  of  the  gate  tower  and  the  big 
voice  of  Griffith  bawled  at  them  across  the  abyss,  demand- 
ing what  they  wanted. 

"I  ride  hither,"  shouted  Sir  Batty  between  his  palms, 
"in  the  Queen's  name,  demanding  present  audience  with 
Master  Hercules  Flood,  that  is  keeper  of  this  castle." 

"And  who  might  you  be,"  Griffith  questioned  grimly, 
"that  presume  to  demand  anything  of  Hercules  Flood?" 

"Tell  Master  Flood,"  Sir  Batty  called,  "that  Sir  Batty 
Sellars,  whose  name  is  not  unknown  to  him,  asks  for  imme- 
diate speech  with  him.  I  make  bold  to  believe  that  he  will 
guess  the  meaning  of  my  errand." 


268  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Griffith  emitted  a  sound  between  a  snort  of  defiance  and 
a  sniff  of  disdain. 

"I  will  take  your  message,"  he  said  curtly,  and  his  shaggy 

head  disappeared  from  the  embrasure.     Sir  Batty  and  his 

friends  stayed  on  the  Dragon's  Head  in  silent  expectation 

for  some  minutes.    Then  the  shock  head  of  the  Welshman 

c        reappeared  at  the  opening. 

"Sir  Batty  Sellars,"  he  said  gruffly,  "can  enter  Mount- 
dragon  and  speak  with  its  lord." 

Even  as  Griffith  spoke  there  was  a  turning  of  windlass  and 
a  creaking  of  chains  as  the  drawbridge  began  slowly  to 
sway  from  its  lodgment  towards  its  resting-place  on  the 
further  side  of  the  gap.  While  it  descended  Sir  Batty 
swung  himself  from  the  saddle  and  advanced,  leaving  his 
party  where  they  had  halted  and  where  they  now  remained, 
watching  his  conduct  with  anxious  eyes  and  anxious  minds. 
They  saw  the  drawbridge  touch  the  hither  lip  of  the  gap ; 
they  saw  Sir  Batty  leap  on  to  its  planks  even  before  it 
had  reached  its  mooring;  they  saw  Sir  Batty  pass  along 
it  and  disappear  within  the  courtyard  of  the  keep.  Also 
they  saw  that  the  drawbridge  remained  lowered  and  that 
the  great  gate  of  the  castle  remained  open  as  if  disdainful 
of  their  presence. 

Spencer  Winwood  turned  to  the  serving-men,  who  were 
now  close  behind,  and  directed  them  in  a  low  voice. 

"Be  prompt,"  he  commanded,  "to  do  as  we  do.  See 
to  the  readiness  of  your  weapons  and  the  readiness  of 
your  hands,  for  I  can  make  no  straight  guess  as  to  the  end 
of  this  enterprise." 

Sir  Batty's  man,  as  representing  the  others,  and  as 
tacitly  recognising  Mr.  Winwood's  right  to  command  in 
the  absence  of  his  master,  nodded  his  head  and  almost 
mechanically  eased  the  short  sword  at  his  girdle  and  looked 
to  the  pistols  in  his  holsters.  Thereafter  the  little  party 
sat  in  their  saddles  staring  at  the  blank  face  of  Mount- 
dragon  across  the  space,  with  its  gaping  mouth,  and  won- 
dering what  was  going  to  happen. 

In  the  meantime  Sir  Batty,  crossing  the  drawbridge  and 
entering  the  courtyard  through  the  great  gate,  found  him- 
self confronted  by  Griffith,  who  in  a  surly  tone  bade  him 
follow.  Duly  following,  Sir  Batty  mounted  a  winding 


MINE  ENEMY  AT  THE  GATE  269 

stair,  paced  a  corridor,  passed  through  a  door  which  Grif- 
fith suddenly  flung  open,  and  found  himself  in  a  fair  and 
spacious  chamber  and  face  to  face  with  Hercules  Flood. 

Hercules  greeted  his  visitor  with  a  smile  in  which  that 
visitor  discerned  rather  a  politely  veiled  derision  than  a 
proclaimed  defiance. 

"This,"  said  Hercules,  "is  an  honour  that  I  was  coming 
to  expect." 

"I  do  not  come  to  honour  you,"  replied  Sir  Batty  sharply, 
"for  I  esteem  you  too  deep  in  dishonour  to  command  aught 
from  me  save  scorn.  I  come  to  demand  the  liberation 
of  an  unhappy  lady  who  is  now  a  prisoner  in  your 
hands." 

"Do  you  so,"  Hercules  replied  coolly.  He  motioned  to 
Sir  Batty  to  be  seated,  but  Sir  Batty  ignored  the  proffer 
and  spoke  again. 

"You  lied  to  me  at  our  last  meeting  when  I  challenged 
your  knowledge  of  the  whereabouts  of  Mistress  Constant." 

"You  lie  when  you  say  so,"  Hercules  retorted,  but  with- 
out show  of  anger.  "I  remember  the  terms  of  our  talk 
very  well,  and  that  I  told  you  nothing  more  than  the 
tale  I  had  been  told  by  the  good  woman  at  'The  Golden 
Hart.' " 

"None  the  less  you  deceived  me,"  Sir  Batty  persisted, 
"for  you  knew  that  I  sought  the  lady  in  great  anxiety  of 
spirit." 

"Very  truly  I  knew  as  much,"  Hercules  agreed  cheer- 
fully, "but  I  did  not  wish  you  to  find  her." 

"I  have  found  her  now,"  Sir  Batty  said,  and  strove 
to  stifle  the  rising  anger  in  his  voice,  "and  I  call  upon  you 
to  set  her  free." 

"You  call  in  vain,"  Hercules  answered  composedly.  "In 
Mountdragon  it  is  I  who  give  command,  not  I  who  take 
command.  So  I  trust  that  you  will  not  consider  me  in- 
hospitable if  I  suggest  that  you  should  go  your  ways." 

"Have  you  .considered,"  Sir  Batty  asked,  with  forced 
deliberation,  "what  the  consequences  of  this  crime  may 
prove  to  you?" 

"I  do  not  choose  to  defend  my  conduct  to  you,"  Her- 
cules responded  with  a  persistent  good-humour  that  ex- 
asperated Sir  Batty,  "but  I  am  willing  to  assure  you  that 


270  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

I  am  not  accustomed  to  act  without  some  measure  of  fore- 
sight." 

"I  wonder  if  your  prevision  foresees  the  gallows?"  Sir 
Batty  asked  with  a  sudden  fierceness. 

Hercules  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Do  not  let  me  detain  you  any  longer  from  your  friends," 
he  urged  affably. 

Sir  Batty  looked  as  if  he  felt  baffled  by  the  imperturb- 
ability of  Flood.  Then  a  new  thought  spurred  him  to  new 
speech. 

"How  can  I  go  back  to  my  friends,"  he  asked,  with  a 
heat  that  was  real  enough,  though  he  meant  it  to  seem  no 
more  than  well-aped,  "with  no  news  but  yours  of  Mistress 
Clarenda  Constant.  What  proof  is  there  for  me  and  for 
them  that  you  have  not  cruelly  misused  her,  shamefully 
abused  her,  starved  her,  beaten  her,  God  knows  what 

Hercules  interrupted  him  with  a  storm  in  his  sea-coloured 
eyes. 

"You  have  my  word." 

But  Sir  Batty  was  not  to  be  daunted  so  or  daffed  aside 
by  menace. 

"Damn  your  word,"  he  cried.  "The  coward  who  will 
kidnap  a  woman  will  be  cur  enough  to  misuse  her.  Dare 
you  let  me  behold  her  and  carry  back  to  those  that  love 
her  assurance  of  her  state  ?" 

Hercules  looked  steadfastly  at  Sir  Batty  for  the  space 
of  several  well-measured  seconds.  He  respected  courage 
in  Sir  Batty.  He  respected  courage  in  anybody. 

"You  shall  see  her,"  he  said  gravely.    "Follow  me." 

He  rose  as  he  spoke  and  led  the  way  from  the  room 
into  the  corridor  which  communicated  with  the  stairway 
in  the  wall  by  which  Sir  Batty  had  ascended.  He  traversed 
this  corridor  to  a  great  door  at  the  further  end,  struck  a 
heavy  stroke  against  it  with  his  closed  fist  and,  after  mo- 
tioning to  Sir  Batty  to  remain  where  he  was,  opened  the 
door  and  passed  beyond  it,  closing  it  behind  him.  Sir 
Batty,  glancing  around  him  and  quickly  taking  stock  of 
his  surroundings,  noted  that  the  room  Flood  had  just 
entered  was  at  no  great  distance  from  the  stairway  in  the 
wall  and  that  there  was  no  sign  of  guard  or  watchman. 
He  had  observed  no  more  when  the  door  he  faced  again 


MINE  ENEMY  AT  THE  GATE  271 

opened,  this  time  wider  than  before,  and  Hercules,  standing 
in  the  aperture,  beckoned  to  him. 

"Mistress  Constant  will  receive  you,"  he  said,  and  drew 
aside  to  let  Sir  Batty,  eagerly  advancing,  enter. 

Sir  Batty  found  himself  in  a  large  room,  nobly  appointed ; 
so  far  a  worthy  dwelling  for  Clarenda  Constant,  who  faced 
him  with  shining  eyes  and  smiling  lips. 

"Sir  Batty,"  she  cried.  "Dear  Sir  Batty,"  and  stretched 
out  her  hands  in  a  rapture  of  welcome.  Sir  Batty  dropped 
on  one  knee  and  kissed  her  fingers,  while  Hercules  listened, 
with  an  unmoved  face,  to  a  greeting  to  gain  which  for  him- 
self would  have  given  him  his  heart's  desire. 

"This  friend  of  yours,"  he  said  with  a  faint  smile,  "is 
so  anxious  to  be  sure  that  we  have  not  treated  you  ill, 
that  I  have  permitted  him  to  see  you  and  judge  for 
himself." 

"Dear  Sir  Batty,"  cried  Clarenda  again — and  she  put 
into  her  voice  a  warmth  that  made  Sir  Batty's  bosom  glow 
and  that  made  Hercules  feel  as  angry  as  he  looked  good- 
humoured — "Dear  Sir  Batty,  how  wise  of  you  to  find  me 
out  and  how  good  of  you  to  come.  They  have  not  beaten 
me,  and  they  have  not  starved  me,  and  they  have  not  put 
me  in  chains.  I  can  set  so  much  to  their  credit."  She  spoke 
with  a  deliberate  impersonality,  as  if  she  were  the  captive 
of  some  general  gang  of  robbers,  no  one  of  whom  was 
more  important  than  the  others,  and  Hercules  felt  that 
he  ought  to  laugh  at  her  nonsense  yet  somehow  failed  to 
smile.  "But  it  is  pitiful  to  be  in  the  hands  of  such  crea- 
tures, and  I  hope  that  you  have  come  to  take  me  away." 

Hercules  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  strolled  to  the  great 
window,  turning  his  back  to  the  talkers  and  staring  out 
over  the  great  waves  of  the  moor.  It  galled  him  queerly 
to  observe  how  well  that  man  and  woman  seemed  to  under- 
stand each  other,  breathe  the  same  air,  make  the  same  vain 
gestures,  use  the  same  vain  speech.  Well,  let  them  say 
their  say  and  be  blessed  to  them.  The  one  certain  thing 
was  that  Sir  Batty  had  not  come  to  take  Clarenda  away. 

But  for  all  Master  Flood's  surety,  Sir  Batty  was  not 
so  sure  of  this.  The  passionate  sound  of  Clarenda's  wel- 
coming voice,  the  passionate  power  of  Clarenda's  loveliness, 
the  passion  in  her  appeal  for  freedom,  in  her  belief  that 


272  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

he  had  come  to  set  her  free,  stirred  him  out  of  his  habitual 
craft,  his  habitual  caution,  his  habitual  self-control.  He 
cast  a  glance  at  Hercules,  now  standing  out  of  earshot 
by  the  window  and  whistling  softly  to  himself,  and  then 
his  ardent  gaze  travelled  back  to  Clarenda's  beautiful  flushed 
face.  Sir  Batty  addressed  her  in  a  low  voice. 

"Do  you  really  wish  to  be  free?" 

He  asked  this  question  almost  unconsciously,  for  the 
thought  had  come  to  him,  against  the  grain,  that  perhaps 
after  all,  Clarenda  was,  in  some  fantastical  measure,  an 
accomplice  in  this  rape.  The  girl's  eyes  answered  him 
before  her  lips. 

"Yes,  yes,  yes,"  she  cried,  pressing  her  clenched  hands 
upon  her  breast  with  such  vehement  assurance  of  truth 
as  sufficed  to  overheat  Sir  Batty's  cool  reason.  After  all, 
at  the  heart,  Sir  Batty  was  an  amorist,  to  whom  the 
momentary  tongue  of  the  flesh  is  as  the  trumpet  of  the 
eternal  angel. 

Clarenda,  watching  him,  honestly  expecting  that  he  was 
about  to  proclaim  her  delivery  to  freedom,  thinking  vaguely 
that  he  came  to  her  and  to  Mountdragon  with  an  army 
at  his  back,  now  saw  his  whole  person  stiffen  with  swift 
resolution.  His  left  hand,  which  was  at  the  present  his 
best  friend,  shifted  to  his  dagger-handle  and  loosed  the 
weapon  from  its  house.  His  feet  that  were  so  skilled  in 
dancing  skipped  noiselessly  across  the  floor  towards  the 
window,  where  Hercules  still  stood  insouciant,  his  broad 
back  an  admirable  target  for  any  assassin  with  the  neces- 
sary knowledge  of  anatomy.  Desperately,  for  an  insane 
instant,  she  held  her  breath  as  if  she  were  the  fascinated 
beholder  of  some  play  that  she  must  needs  see  out  to  the 
finish  before  she  dare  applaud  or  condemn.  More  des- 
perately, as  she  saw  Sir  Batty  pause  and  swing  his  deadly 
left  hand  to  Heaven,  did  she  force  herself  to  find  a  con- 
clusion between  her  hope  and  fear,  her  hate  and  love,  her 
sense  of  injury  and  her  sense  of  honour. 

"Hercules,"  she  shrieked  at  the  shrillest  pitch  of  her 
voice.  "Hercules !"  The  name  had  come  glibly  enough 
to  her  lips  in  the  old  days  of  fooling  in  the  orchard.  It 
came  glibly  now  when  her  conscience  called  a  warning. 

Hercules  swung  round  from  his  station  at  the  window 


MINE  ENEMY  AT  THE  GATE  273 

with  a  look  of  satisfaction  upon  his  countenance  that  was 
sufficiently  surprising  to  read  on  the  face  of  a  man  threat- 
ened with  sudden  death.  Before  he  turned  he  slipped 
something  into  the  bosom  of  his  jerkin.  When  he  turned, 
his  left  arm  shot  out  and  its  hand  caught  Sir  Batty 
by  the  throat,  while  his  right  hand  closed  round  Sir 
Batty's  left  wrist  and  wrenched  it  unpleasantly.  In  the  same 
moment  of  time  Sir  Batty  was  plucked  from  the  floor  and 
held  aloft  in  the  air,  while  his  dagger  fell  from  his  twisted 
fingers.  Almost  as  easily  as  a  man  might  toss  a  handker- 
chief Hercules  tossed  from  him  the  pendant  person  of  Sir 
Batty  who  collapsed  dismally  on  the  floor  many  yards 
away.  Hercules  stooped  and  picked  up  the  dagger  and  stuck 
it  in  his  girdle.  Then  he  turned  to  Clarenda,  who  was  now 
a  green-white  with  sick  horror,  and  made  her  a  low  bow. 

"I  thank  you,  lady,"  he  said,  in  as  quiet  a  voice  as  if 
nothing  out  of  the  common  had  happened  in  the  tragic 
room.  Then  he  glanced,  with  a  smile,  to  the  spot  where 
Sir  Batty,  stifling  groans  and  curses,  was  scrambling  to  his 
feet.  Hercules  made  no  suggestion  of  attempt  to  defend 
himself  against  renewal  of  attack.  He  just  rested  his 
fists  on  his  hips  and  smiled  commiseratingly. 

"You  are  more  of  the  assassin  than  the  ambassador,  Sir 
Batty,"  he  said  quietly.  "You  have  broken  truce,  and  you 
know  the  fate  of  truce-breakers.  I  shall  have  to  hang  you, 
Sir  Batty." 

He  plucked,  as  he  spoke,  from  his  jerkin  the  sea-man's 
whistle  which  he  carried  on  a  cord  about  his  neck,  and 
lifted  it  to  his  lips.  There  was  no  doubting  the  sincerity 
of  his  speech  or  of  his  purpose.  Sir  Batty  laid  his  left 
hand  for  a  moment  upon  the  hilt  of  his  sword  and  then 
removed  it  again.  Hercules  was  warned;  Hercules  was 
armed;  he  knew  already  that  Hercules  was  the  better 
blade.  Moreover  Hercules'  pipe  would  fill  the  room  with 
his  followers  well-nigh  before  Sir  Batty  could  get  his 
weapon  free.  With  a  sullen  frown  he  waited  for  Hercules 
to  whistle. 

But  Clarenda  did  not  wait.  Before  Hercules  had  time 
to  bring  the  mouthpiece  to  his  lips,  Clarenda  flung  herself 
at  his  feet  and  lifted  her  clasped  hands  to  him  in  passionate 
entreaty. 


274  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"For  God's  sake  forgive  him,"  she  cried.  "For  God's 
sake  let  him  go.  If  he  did  a  wicked  thing  he  did  it  for 
my  sake,  because  he  could  not  bear  to  see  me  a  prisoner 
and  miserable.  For  God's  sake " 

Her  voice  wavered  away  into  silence  as  she  stared  up 
into  the  grave  face  that  could  be  so  determined  and  so 
relentless.  Hercules  stooped  and  lifted  her  to  her  feet  as 
easily  as  he  would  have  picked  up  a  kitten. 

"You  are  my  sovereign  lady,"  he  said  gently,  "and  it  is 
my  pleasure  to  be  able  to  obey  you."  He  looked  again 
towards  Sir  Batty.  "I  did  not  think  that  I  should  live  to 
let  a  man  go  free  who  had  thus  broken  faith  with  me, 
but  the  world  is  still  a  schoolroom  and  affords  ever  new 
lessons.  Go  in  peace,  but  if  you  are  wise  keep  away  from 
Mountdragon." 

Sir  Batty  experienced  a  quickening  of  the  spirits  that 
for  a  brace  of  minutes  had  gone  very  chill. 

"You  talk  big  of  broken  faith,"  he  said  bitterly,  "but  I 
ask  you  candidly  is  a  gentleman  bound  to  keep  faith  with 
a  bandit  like  you?" 

"I  am  more  willing  to  admit  myself  a  bandit,"  Hercules 
answered  affably,  "than  to  accept  you  a  gentleman.  A 
pledge  is  a  pledge  to  whomsoever  it  may  be  delivered.  Let 
that  pass.  Pray  tell  me,  Sir  Batty,  before  we  part,  what 
gain  you  hoped  to  garner  from  killing  me?" 

"You  know  well  enough,"  Sir  Batty  answered,  with 
regained  composure.  "The  liberation  of  this  unhappy  lady." 

Hercules  nodded  sagaciously. 

"I  understand.  I  skewered  into  silence.  The  road  free 
by  the  stairway  to  the  empty  court  and  the  open  door.  A 
shout  to  your  friends  yonder  who  have  been  slowly  draw- 
ing near.  They  dash  across  the  drawbridge  and  the  rescue 
is  won.  Was  not  this  your  plan,  Sir  Batty?" 

Sir  Batty  answered  nothing  though  Hercules  afforded  him 
some  seconds  of  breathing-time.  Then  Hercules  spoke 
again. 

"You  forget,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "that  I  have  been  in 
a  scuffle  or  two  in  my  time  and  have  unlearned  a  world 
of  folly.  You  might  not  have  killed  me,  in  the  first  place, 
and  in  the  second  you  would  have  learned  to  your  cost,  and 
the  cost  of  your  company,  that  the  castle  was  not  so  sleepy 


MINE  ENEMY  AT  THE  GATE  275 

as  it  seemed.  I  wish  you  good-day.  You  can  find  your 
way  to  the  courtyard  and  no  one  will  hinder  your  de- 
parture." 

Sir  Batty  turned  towards  Clarenda,  who  was  standing 
motionless  as  if  she  neither  saw  nor  heard  aught  of  what 

was  passing.  "Dearest  lady "  he  began,  but  he  got 

no  further,  for  Hercules  interrupted  him,  striding  between 
the  man  and  the  woman. 

"No  more  words,"  he  commanded,  "or  though  I 
give  you  your  life  I  deprive  you  of  liberty.  Be  advised. 
Skip." 

Sir  Batty,  realising  his  powerlessness,  accepted  his  dis- 
missal and  left  the  room.  He  made  his  way  to  the  court- 
yard and  found  it  as  empty  as  his  hand.  Through  the 
open  doorway  he  could  see  his  friends  hard  by  the  mouth 
of  the  bridge.  If  any  wild  thoughts  came  into  his  mind  they 
were  dispelled  by  a  touch  upon  his  shoulder.  He  turned 
to  find  himself  face  to  face  with  Griffith,  who  jerked  a 
backward  thumb  in  the  direction  of  a  crowd  of  well-armed 
seamen  who  had  emerged  from  he  knew  not  where,  numer- 
ous enough  and  sturdy  enough  to  have  made  short  work 
of  Sir  Batty  and  his  escort. 

Griffith,  without  speaking  a  word,  gave  Sir  Batty  a  little 
push  in  the  direction  of  the  drawbridge,  and  Sir  Batty,  also 
in  silence,  obeyed  the  impelling  force.  He  crossed  the 
drawbridge  swiftly,  joined  his  surprised  friends  and,  with- 
out vouchsafing  any  immediate  answer  to  the  queries  on 
their  countenances,  flung  himself  on  his  horse  and  led  the 
company  on  the  homeward  road  at  a  brisk  trot. 

After  riding  a  little  way  Sir  Batty  slackened  rein  and  in 
a  low  voice  told  Winwood  and  Willoughby,  who  were  rid- 
ing on  his  right  and  left,  what  had  happened  during  his 
visit  to  the  castle,  and  of  how  sadly  he  had  been  disap- 
pointed in  his  hope  of  disposing  of  Hercules  and  liberating 
Mistress  Constant.  Spencer  Winwood  commiserated  him 
on  the  miscarriage  of  his  plan,  but  Willoughby,  who  had 
listened  to  the  narrative  with  a  puzzled  frown  on  his  face, 
did  not  play  echo  to  Winwood. 

"Was  it  not  an  act  of  treachery,"  he  questioned,  "to  strike 
at  Master  Flood  when  he  was  off  his  guard  and  you  had 
gained  access  to  him  under  cover  of  a  truce?" 


276  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Sir  Batty  smiled  contemptuously  at  the  speech  of  his 
over-scrupulous  companion. 

"Know,  honest  Jack,"  he  answered,  "that  the  rules  and 
laws  of  honourable  warfare  are  not  to  be  applied  to  bandits, 
outlaws,  mutineers,  and  such  the  like  villainry.  Have  you 
never  heard  how  Messer  Caesar  Borgia,  that  past  master 
of  strategy,  trapped  the  Free  Companions?" 

Willoughby  shook  his  head  and  murmured  something 
rather  inarticulate  to  the  effect  that  a  promise  was  a 
promise.  Winwood  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  Sir  Batty 
answered  with  a  condescending  disdain. 

"Do  not  mutter  folly  in  your  beard,  honest  Jack,"  he 
commanded.  "You  may  be  sure  that  my  actions  are  al- 
ways commendable  and  such  as  you  may  follow  without 
searching  of  heart." 

Jack  Willoughby's  face  was  a  study  in  doubt,  but  Sir 
Batty  paid  no  further  heed  to  him. 

"Shall  we  lend  our  horses  wings?"  he  asked,  with  as- 
sumed gaiety,  "we  have  news  to  carry  to  Lady  Gylford, 
though  it  be  far  from  good  news.  Come,  friends,  shall  we 
make  a  race  of  it  to  the  edge  of  the  moorland  ?  I  will  wager 
five  gold  pieces  that  I  prove  the  first." 

"Done,"  cried  Winwood.  Willoughby  said  nothing.  Sir 
Batty  spurred  his  horse  and  was  off  at  top  speed,  but  Wil- 
loughby came  to  a  halt  and  made  pretence  to  be  busy  with 
his  saddle-gear.  As  the  three  servants  rode  by  he  signalled 
to  his  own  man,  who  drew  bridle,  and  his  master  bade  him 
ride  direct  to  Willoughby  Homing.  The  man  nodded  and 
renewed  his  ride  in  a  fresh  direction.  Master  Willoughby, 
sitting  still,  looked  after  the  others  pursuing  their  vehement 
flight  and  likely  soon  to  be  out  of  sight.  With  the  same 
puzzled  expression  on  his  simple  countenance  Willoughby 
turned  his  horse's  head  and  urged  the  animal  rapidly  back 
upon  the  road  by  which  it  had  just  come. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

AN    UNEXPECTED    FRIEND 

TTTHEN  Sir  Batty  disappeared,  Hercules  turned  to 
W  Clarenda,  who  stood  as  still  as  the  pillar  that  was 
once  the  wife  of  Lot,  and  paid  her  a  reverence. 

"I  owe  much  thinks  to  your  graciousness,"  he  said,  "for 
giving  me  that  warning  just  now." 

Clarenda  shook  herself  free  of  her  torpor  with  an  effort 
and  faced  him,  her  pale  cheeks  flaming  anew. 

"You  owe  me  thanks  and  more  than  thanks,"  she  pro- 
tested. "But  for  me  you  would  be  a  dead  man  at  this  pres- 
ent." 

"I  owe  you  thanks  and  more  than  thanks,"  Hercules 
agreed  cordially,  "and  I  think  I  have  paid  you  more  than 
thanks  by  letting  that  gallows-bird  go  free  to  do  more  dirty 
business  in  a  world  which  would  well  be  clean  quit  of  him. 
But  my  gratitude  does  not  go  so  far  as  to  admit  that  I 
should  be  dead  at  this  present  if  you  had  not  cried  your  cry." 

Clarenda  was  in  an  hysterical  mood,  and  Master  Flood, 
honest  intelligent  gentleman,  did  not  wonder  at  it.  She 
raged  at  him. 

"A  stroke  at  the  heart  from  a  sure,  strong  hand  is  as 
deadly  from  the  back  as  from  the  front  if  the  hand  know 
where  to  give  point." 

Hercules  favoured  the  girl  with  one  of  those  humouring 
smiles  which,  though  he  did  not  intend  as  much,  had  the 
power  of  driving  her  well-nigh  to  desperation. 

"When  I  receive  gentlefolk  of  Sir  Batty's  gentility,"  he 
said  lightly,  "I  am  wary  enough  to  take  no  unnecessary 
odds.  Your  courtier  has  a  code  of  morals  that  differs  from 
your  simple  seaman's.  So  I  was  not  to  be  taken  by  sur- 
prise." 

As  he  spoke  he  slipped  his  left  hand  into  the  bosom  of  his 
doublet  and  bringing  it  out  again  displayed  to  Clarenda  on 
277 


278  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

the  extended  palm  a  small  flat  circle  of  highly  polished  steel. 

"I  could  see  the  room,"  he  explained,  "and  its  visitor  and 
all  that  he  did  in  this  little  plane  of  metal.  I  was  more  than 
ready  for  him  when  he  made  his  move,  but  I  was  none  the 
less  grateful  to  you  for  your  warning,  for  it  showed  that  you 
liked  me  well  enough  to  save  me  from  subtle  knifing.  And 
he  should  be  grateful  to  you,  no  less,  for  I  fear  if  you  had 
not  spoken  I  should  have  been  too  severely  tempted  to  hang 
him  to  resist  the  temptation,  or  to  yield  to  your  eloquent 
pleading." 

Clarenda  clenched  her  hands  and  stamped  a  foot  in  wrath. 

"Would  to  God,"  she  cried,  "that  I  could  have  you  at 
an  advantage.  So  should  you  learn  of  my  liking  for  you." 

"You  had  me  at  an  advantage  just  now,"  Hercules  sug- 
gested simply,  "and  you  let  the  chance  go  by." 

"I  would  not  see  a  pig  killed  so  meanly,"  Clarenda  pro- 
tested hotly,  "so  you  need  not  believe  that  I  like  you  any 
better  than  a  pig." 

Hercules  looked  at  her  with  a  musing  expression  upon  his 
face,  and  stroked  his  russet  beard  thoughtfully. 

"I  do  not  take  your  comparison  too  vilely,"  he  assured 
her.  "There  was  a  saint  once  in  Egypt  long  ago,  who  was 
mightily  attached  to  a  pig.  Your  porker  is  a  useful  crea- 
ture, take  him  in  all  regards.  Now  if  you  had  said  an  ass. 
Yet  again,  as  I  recall,  there  are  very  honourable  and  sacred 
associations  with  an  ass.  So  to  make  an  end  of  it,  I  thank 
you  again  very  heartily  for  doing  your  best  to  save  my  life, 
and  now  with  your  permission  I  will  take  my  leave,  for,  as 
I  guess,  there  is  a  busy  time  before  me." 

Therewith  he  left  her  to  her  thoughts  that  he  might  devote 
himself  to  his  own. 

Hercules  knew  very  well  that  there  was  a  busy  time 
before  him,  and  he  could  not  forecast  the  precise  form  that 
the  business  would  take.  It  was  quite  possible  that  Sir 
Batty  and  his  friends  would  try  to  rouse  the  countryside 
against  him,  that  they  might  appeal  to  authority  at  Ply- 
mouth, that  they  might  attempt  to  take  Mountdragon  by 
storm.  In  such  a  case  Hercules  believed,  with  good  reason 
for  his  belief,  that  there  were  many  men  in  Devon  who 
would  stand  by  him  and  rally  to  his  standard,  holding  that 
what  Hercules  Flood  might  do  was  liker  to  be  right  than 


AN  UNEXPECTED  FRIEND  279 

wrong.  It  was  no  part  of  Hercules'  wish  to  kindle  civil 
war  in  the  West  Country,  but  neither  was  it  in  his  mind  to 
surrender  his  stronghold.  Wherefore  he  now  sought  out 
Griffith,  and  bade  him  be  watchful  in  guard  and  brisk 
in  all  things  for  the  defence  of  the  palace.  He  gave  no 
explanation  of  his  orders  and  Griffith  asked  for  no  explana- 
tion of  them.  It  was  enough  for  the  one  to  speak  and  the 
other  to  execute.  He  knew  very  well  that  Hercules  was 
holding  a  fair  maid  a  prisoner  against  her  will.  But  he 
knew  also  that  Hercules  was  treating  his  captive  both  kindly 
and  honourably  and  he  was  very  sure  that  the  fair  maid 
must  be  a  foolish  vestal  not  to  rejoice  in  the  favour  of 
Hercules  Flood. 

But  if  the  mind  of  Griffith  reasoned  thus  simply  that  of 
Hercules  had  a  harder  task  to  tackle.  For  all  he  was 
so  habitually  self-confident  and  self-contained  he  was  be- 
ginning to  find  himself  immersed  in  perplexities  unfore- 
seen and  teasing.  Unforeseen,  because  he  had  honestly 
believed  that  Clarenda  cared  for  him  in  her  heart  and 
would  consent,  after  a  little  demurring,  to  his  rough 
wooing.  Teasing,  because  they  began  to  imply  grave  con- 
sequences, not  merely  for  himself — that  was  his  own  affair 
— but  for  others.  This  was  not  to  be  helped,  yet  in  a 
measure  it  vexed  him,  and  as  his  meditations  drifting  from 
grey  to  brown  threatened  to  merge  in  midnight,  he  was 
relieved  when  they  were  at  least  temporarily  dispersed  by 
the  irruption  of  Griffith  with  an  announcement. 

"One  of  those  rider-men  has  returned,  and  stays  by  the 
edge  of  the  Head,  waving  his  kerchief  and  calling  for  speech 
with  Master  Hercules  Flood." 

Hercules  forced  his  spirit  to  the  surface  of  the  sea  of 
heavy  thoughts  in  which  it  had  been  submerged. 

"Which  of  the  gentlemen  is  it?  Surely  it  is  not  Sir 
Batty  again?" 

"Very  surely  it  is  not  Sir  Batty,  neither  is  it  his  finicking 
London  friend.  It  is  the  apple-faced  addlepate  that  has 
a  dwelling  out  by  Tavistock  way." 

Hercules  looked  surprise. 

"Master  Willoughby  of  Willoughby  Homing?" 

Griffith  nodded. 

"This  may  be  some  snare.    Does  he  ride  alone?" 


280  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Griffith  nodded  assent. 

"Then  let  him  enter,  in  God's  name,"  said  Hercules, 
with  a  weariness  that  Griffith  grieved  to  note.  "Mount- 
dragon  has  an  open  mouth  for  visitors  to-day." 

A  few  minutes  later  Master  Willoughby  entered  the 
room.  He  was  flushed  with  embarrassment  and  his  shyness 
tempted  him  to  a  clasping  of  hands  and  a  twiddling  of 
thumbs  that  did  not  heighten  the  grace  of  his  carriage. 
But  he  had  come  to  speak  and  he  spoke.  Hercules  had 
scarcely  risen  to  greet  him  when  he  began  tumbling  his 
words  into  sentences  as  best  he  could  and  leaving  his 
sentences  to  shift  for  themselves  in  the  matters  of  direct- 
ness and  ending. 

"I  am  a  plain  country  fellow,  Master  Flood,"  he  began, 
"and  though  I  will  not  deny  that  I  have  seen  no  little  of 
London  and  can  boast  some  acquaintance  with  the  Court 
and  its  great  folk,  I  find  that  I  still  remain  a  plain  country 
fellow  who  has  but  one  word  for  one  thing  and  but  one  face 
for  Sundays  and  week-days  alike.  I  will  not  give  you 
butter  when  you  ask  for  cheese,  and  when  you  go  about  to 
beg  me  to  stab  you  in  the  back,  why,  God  help  me,  I  can 
do  no  other  than  give  you  a  loud  'no*  and  be  damned  to 
you." 

Here  Master  Willoughby,  pausing,  wiped  a  hot  forehead 
with  the  back  of  a  hot  hand  and  looked  somewhat  wist- 
fully at  Hercules. 

Hercules  looked  at  the  embarrassed  gentleman  with  a 
friendly  smile. 

"Albeit  the  manner  of  your  speech  is  a  little  confused," 
he  said,  "it  appears  to  me  that  the  matter  is  of  a  friendly 
savour." 

"You  are  right  there,  if  you  were  never  right  in  your 
life  before,"  Willoughby  agreed  heartily.  "I  may  be  a  bit 
thick  in  the  head,  but  I  thank  Heaven  it  is  too  thick  to 
let  some  thoughts  in,  and  again  that  it  is  too  thick  to  let 
some  thoughts  out.  And  among  the  thoughts  that  cannot 
come  in  is  the  thought  that  it  is  right  to  act  as  a  very  good 
friend  of  mine  acted  to-day,  and  among  the  thoughts  that 
cannot  come  out  is  the  thought  that  you  are  an  honest 
fellow  and  that  there  must  be  some  honest  reason  for 
what  you  have  done,  however  strange  it  may  seem." 


AN  UNEXPECTED  FRIEND  281 

Hercules  felt  an  uplifting  of  the  heart  as  he  heard  this 
protestation  of  friendly  feeling  from  Jack  Willoughby. 
It  was  expressed  uncouthly  enough,  but  there  could  be 
no  question  as  to  its  significance  or  its  sincerity.  He 
extended  his  hand  to  grasp  Willoughby's. 

"I  take  it  very  kindly,"  he  declared,  "that  you  should 
come  here  and  say  this.  It  is  my  habit  to  weigh  and  shape 
my  conduct  for  myself,  and  if  it  stands  my  judgment  I 
am  never  at  pains  to  solicit  the  judgment  of  others.  But  I 
freely  admit  that  I  am  pleased  to  have  your  good  opinion." 

"I  will  bear  no  part  against  you  in  this  business,  I  prom- 
ise you,"  Willoughby  said  stoutly.  "I  would  even  join  with 
you  but  that  I  do  not  love  changing  sides.  There  is  a 
friend  of  yours,  however,  that  is  not  of  my  mind." 

"Philemon  Minster?"  Hercules  queried.  Willoughby 
nodded.  "You  must  not  blame  Philemon  Minster.  He 
does  not  understand." 

"He  does  not  understand,"  returned  Willoughby,  "and 
I  do  not  understand,  which  is  why  I  do  no  more  than  stand 
by  and  see  fair  play.  But  your  friend  Master  Minster  is 
less  nice.  He  is  riding  to  London  to  acquaint  my  lord 
Godalming  with  this  muss." 

This  was  news  to  Hercules,  but  he  showed  no  sign  of 
surprise. 

"Philemon  is  a  chivalrous  creature,"  he  said  kindly. 

Jack  Willoughby  grunted. 

"Plague  take  such  chivalry,"  he  said,  "which  leads  a 
man  to  turn  his  coat  and  change  his  colours.  But  when 
you  bring  a  woman  into  a  business  there  is  no  saying  what 
may  happen." 

Hercules  smiled  agreement  with  this  profound  philoso- 
phy. 

"It  is  even  as  you  say,"  he  admitted.  "Love  of  woman 
is  a  music  that  makes  men  cut  strange  capers." 

"I  wish  you  a  good  end  to  your  dancing,"  said  Wil- 
loughby soberly,  "but  my  mind  misgives  me  that  you  are 
in  something  of  a  pickle." 

"That  same  thought  has  indeed  presented  itself  to  me," 
Hercules  concurred. 

"You  have  broken  law,  there  is  no  use  denying  it,"  Wil- 
loughby pursued,  "and  if  you  seek  to  hold  this  place  against 


282  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

the  Queen's  justice  you  will  break  more  law.  It  is  not 
my  place  to  advise  you,  for  you  seem  to  be  one  that  makes 
and  takes  his  own  advice.  But  there  is  a  plain  question 
which  I  should  like  to  ask  you  with  no  offence  in  it."  He 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  then,  reading  permission  in 
Hercules'  face,  he  continued :  "Is  this  lass  worth  the 
trouble  ?" 

"Quite,"  Hercules  answered,  with  a  cheerful  bluntness 
there  was  no  gainsaying. 

"Then  there  is  no  more  to  say  save  to  wish  you  well 
with  a  fair  end  to  your  enterprise." 

As  he  spoke,  Willoughby  exchanged  another  hearty  hand- 
clasp with  Hercules,  and  bidding  him  farewell,  quitted  the 
castle. 

While  Willoughby  was  riding  soberly  to  Willoughby 
Homing,  turning  over  in  his  somewhat  sluggish  mind  the 
form  of  words  in  which  he  should  announce  to  his  guests 
that  he  would  take  no  further  active  part  in  their  enterprise, 
the  master  of  Mountdragon  plunged  anew  into  reflection. 

To  Hercules,  chewing  the  cud  of  the  sharp  herb  con- 
sideration, it  was  abundantly  clear  that  there  was  no  chance 
to  hold  out  indefinitely  at  Mountdragon.  In  the  end,  sooner 
or  later,  the  struggle  would  come  to  be  one  between  the 
forces  of  the  State  and  a  mutinous  subject  and  the  mutinous 
subject  could  not  hope  to  win  the  game.  His  opponents 
would  not  batter  down  the  castle  because  of  the  woman  it 
held  prisoner — it  galled  him  to  think  that  he  must  owe  so 
much  protection  to  the  presence  of  a  petticoat — but  they 
had  other  means  of  reducing  him  to  subjection. 

Mountdragon  was  well  victualled,  it  was  true,  but  the 
supplies  his  foresight  had  provided,  though  they  well  over- 
lapped the  period  his  confidence  had  prescribed  for  the 
lady's  surrender,  were  far  from  inexhaustible,  and  what- 
ever he  and  his  fellows  were  willing  to  endure  he  could 
not  consent  to  reduce  Clarenda  to  the  straits  of  starvation. 
After  tossing  his  thoughts  this  way  and  that  way,  as  a  jug- 
gler tosses  spheres,  he  finally  held  a  handful  of  abandoned 
balls  in  the  one  hand  of  his  fancy  and  the  ball  of  decision 
in  the  other.  He  knew  what  was  the  best  thing  for  him 
to  do  if  he  resolved,  as  he  did  resolve,  to  persist  in  his 
adventure. 


AN  UNEXPECTED  FRIEND  283 

His  enemies  would  be  too  much  for  him  on  land,  but 
there  still  remained  to  him  the  sea.  The  sea  that  had  ever 
been  his  kindly  foster-mother,  the  sea  that  he  had  loved 
and  used  so  long,  should  be  his  friend  again.  He  would 
convey  Clarenda,  willy-nilly,  to  his  ship  and  bear  her  away. 
There  were  distant  waters  where  a  man  might  wear  out  a 
century  in  safety  from  discovery ;  there  were  islands  where 
a  man  might  reign  a  king;  there  were  cities  where  a  man 
might  rule  unquestioned ;  there  were  fat  lands  which  a  man 
could  command.  He  knew  himself  for  such  a  man  and 
he  meant  that  Clarenda  should  know  him  for  such  a  man. 
He  told  himself  that  she  should  ever  be  as  respected  and 
honoured  as  she  had  been  since  the  first  day  of  her  captivity, 
but  his  hope  told  him  that  when  he  had  made  himself  a 
kingdom  Clarenda  would  consent  to  be  its  queen. 

Swiftly  he  considered  ways  and  means.  The  Golden 
Hart,  with  half  a  crew  aboard,  rode  at  anchor  in  the  bay. 
He  would  send  Griffith  at  once  to  prepare  her  for  sea  and 
sail  her  to  a  near  point  upon  the  coast  to  which  he  would 
convey  Clarenda.  Then  it  would  be  hey  for  the  Spanish 
Main  and  the  far  edges  of  the  earth,  and  when  his  enemies 
mustered  before  Mountdragon  they  would  find  an  empty 
cage. 

He  estimated  that  it  would  take  Philemon — good  rider 
though  he  was  and  sure  to  be  well  mounted — at  least  the 
full  of  a  week  before  he  could  reach  London.  If  my  lord 
of  Godalming  resolved  to  set  out  at  once  for  the  West  Coun- 
try and  if  a  man  of  his  years  could  journey  as  swiftly  as 
Philemon,  which  though  possible  was  not  probable,  that 
still  meant  another  week  before  he  and  his  retinue  could 
appear  before  Mountdragon.  And  by  that  time — Hercules 
hugged  himself  in  the  thought — he  would  be  sailing  with 
his  lady  far  over  the  rim  of  the  horizon. 

It  was  not  likely  that  those  of  his  opponents  who  re- 
mained at  Plymouth  would  guess  at  so  desperate  a  purpose, 
or  indeed,  even  if  they  knew  of  it,  that  they  could  effectively 
bar  his  way.  He  could  command  the  friendship,  active  or 
passive,  of  half  the  town.  He  knew  that  there  was  not 
a  seaman  who  ever  shifted  ale  or  lifted  strong  waters  at 
the  "Dolphin"  who  would  raise  a  hand  to  interfere  with 
him.  But  he  was  reasonably  confident  that  his  adversaries 


284  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

would  not  anticipate  his  plan.  They  would  wait  in  such 
patience  as  they  could  command  for  the  coming  of  my  lord 
of  Godalming  and  the  authority  of  the  law. 

The  more  Hercules  mused  upon  his  plan  the  more  he 
liked  it,  unaware  that  he  was  pitted  in  strife  less  with  men 
than  with  destiny.  An  unconscious  Sisera,  he  did  not  guess 
that  the  stars  in  their  courses  were  fighting  against  him, 
that  things  had  happened  which  he  could  not  foresee,  which 
were  to  prove  too  strong  for  the  pride  of  his  enterprise. 
The  man  who  believes  himself  master  of  a  fortnight's 
breathing-time  may  well  believe  that  he  commands  unques- 
tioned the  leisure  of  a  few  hours  in  which  to  carry  out  a 
simple  scheme.  But  Hercules  had  not  this  leisure.  The 
fortnight  of  his  dreams  was  no  better  than  a  heap  of  dust 
at  the  heel  of  Time. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

PHILEMON  MEETS  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE 

PHILEMON  galloped  madly  along  the  high  road  with 
a  whirling  head  and  a  throbbing  heart.  If  he  had  no 
other  cause  for  his  headlong  pace  his  uneasy  conscience 
would  have  furnished  him  with  a  spur  to  speed.  Persist- 
ently he  asked  himself  if  he  had  done  right  to  act  against 
his  old  friend  and  to  ally  himself  with  his  enemies.  Per- 
sistently he  assured  himself  that  he  had  done  very  right, 
that  there  was  no  other  course  open  to  a  man  of  chivalrous 
spirit  and  delicate  honour.  A  woman  had  been  kidnapped, 
a  woman  had  been  prisoned.  It  was  the  duty  of  any  true 
gentleman  to  attempt  to  set  that  woman  free.  Philemon 
further  assured  himself  that  the  strength  of  his  resolution 
owed  nothing  to  the  fact  of  Clarenda's  beauty  or  to  such 
feelings  as  he  unadmittedly  cherished  towards  her.  No. 
Here  was  a  damsel  in  distress,  and  if  she  were  as  unlovely 
as  a  hag  or  as  unknown  to  him  as  some  Aztec  Queen  it 
was  imperative  that  a  gallant  knight  should  seek  to  accom- 
plish her  rescue  at  whatever  sacrifice  of  friendship.  Thus 
Philemon  argued,  his  wits  heady  with  wine  and  motion 
as  he  rivalled  the  wind  on  his  way  to  the  London  that 
seemed  so  far  away. 

The  splendid  summer  evening  was  beginning  to  shed  a 
little  of  its  splendour  in  preparation  for  the  pensiveness 
of  twilight  when  Philemon  Minster  came  within  view  of 
Exeter  town.  His  horse  was  tired  and  his  horse's  rider 
was  tired,  but  whenever  Philemon  had  watered  his  horse 
on  the  road  he  had  at  the  same  time  sluiced  his  own  body 
with  goodly  draughts  of  wine,  which  lent  their  feverish 
strength  to  his  frail  body  and  gave  a  fresh  fervour  to  his 
unsteady  brain.  At  Exeter  he  decided  that  it  would  be  well 
to  bait  and  sleep.  Though  he  knew  that  he  could,  if  he 
chose,  find  a  fresh  mount  in  the  town,  he  knew  also  that 
285 


286  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

he  could  not  ride  without  resting  for  the  whole  of  his  jour- 
ney, and  that  he  would  therefore  better  serve  the  lady  of 
his  dreams  by  giving  a  little  time  to  food  and  repose  than 
by  breaking  down  altogether  in  the  attempt  to  accomplish 
the  impossible.  Wherefore  he  allowed  himself  a  certain 
gratification  of  spirit  as  he  beheld  the  ancient  city  piled 
upon  its  hill  above  the  river,  saw  Rougemont  hump  its 
shoulder  against  the  sky,  and  noted,  with  the  appreciative 
eye  of  the  craftsman,  the  commendable  outline  of  the 
Cathedral. 

Philemon  was  so  in  essence  a  sensualist  that  while  he 
tasted  the  delight  of  his  own  devotion  in  thus  riding  ro- 
mantically to  London  for  the  sake  of  a  distressed  lady  as 
much  as  if  he  had  read  a  like  tale  in  a  book  of  fables,  he 
was  no  less  keenly  alive  to  the  pleasures  that  his  necessary 
halt  must  afford  him.  He  pictured  in  his  mind  the  concilia- 
tory inn,  the  comfortable  room,  the  clean  napery,  the  pleas- 
ant meal  of  meat  and  wine,  and  the  good  bed  in  which  a 
tired  dreamer  might  dream  new  dreams.  Though,  there- 
fore, both  he  and  his  steed  were  weary,  he  revived  the  flag- 
ging energies  of  the  one  with  his  whip,  of  the  other  with 
anticipation,  and  clattered  through  the  open  gate  of  Exeter 
in  a  fine  style  of  horsemanship.  He  knew  Exeter  of  old,  as 
indeed  he  knew  every  corner  of  the  West  Country,  and 
he  knew  exactly  the  inn  he  was  making  for  and  he  rehearsed 
with  precision  the  welcome  he  would  receive  at  the  "Bird  in 
the  Hand."  He  lessened  his  speed  to  a  sober  trot  as  he 
made  his  way  along  the  narrow  High  Street,  more  crowded 
than  he  had  ever  known  it,  owing,  as  he  assumed,  to  the 
kindness  of  the  summer  evening.  He  was  heavy  with  his 
travel  and  the  incidental  potations,  and  less  brisk  than  his 
wont  to  take  notice  of  a  brave  display  of  flags  and  ban- 
ners and  gaudy  bunting  which  hung  on  lines  across  the  nar- 
row street  and  depended  from  windows. 

He  was  indeed  so  drowsy  that  he  was  almost  nodding 
over  the  neck  of  his  horse  when  a  stumble  of  the  animal 
over  an  unfortunate  cobble  jerked  him  into  a  measure  of 
alertness.  Looking  about  him  as  a  man  does  that  is  abruptly 
shaken  out  of  a  doze,  he  was  aware  of  a  tavern  hard  by 
at  his  left  and  of  an  open  window  and  of  two  fellows  sit- 
ting therein  and  drinking  together  whose  faces  seemed 


PHILEMON  MEETS  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE     287 

unaccountably  familiar  to  him.  Philemon  had  a  few  ac- 
quaintances in  Exeter,  but  these  twain  were  not  of  them, 
and  yet  Philemon  knew  that  he  had  seen  them  before  and 
could  not  give  a  locality  to  the  seeing.  Almost  uncon- 
sciously he  brought  his  mount  to  a  halt  the  better  to  survey 
those  two  perplexing  visages,  the  owners  whereof,  attracted 
by  his  patent  curiosity,  made -ready  to  return  him  stare  for 
stare.  But  almost  in  the  instant  their  countenances,  which 
were  inclined  to  the  challenge  of  aggression,  were  suddenly 
wreathed  in  smiles ;  the  pair  rose  to  their  feet,  gripping 
their  goblets  in  their  fists,  and  leaning  out  of  the  window 
into  the  busy  street,  they  raised  their  cups  in  the  direction 
of  Philemon  and,  after  obviously  wishing  him  good  health, 
they  proceeded  to  drain  a  draught  in  his  honour. 

In  a  flash  recognition  and  recollection  came  to  Philemon. 
He  walked  again  with  Hercules  through  the  woods  towards 
the  land-ship ;  he  paused  on  the  edge  of  the  hollow  where 
two  foreign  gentlemen  that  followed  the  arts  were  tweaking 
one  another  by  the  beard  and  pummelling  one  another  with 
unsophisticated  fingers.  In  a  sudden  impulse  of  pleasure 
at  the  sight  of  their  grinning  faces,  Philemon  urged  his 
horse  close  up  to  the  window,  to  the  no  small  discomfort 
of  the  immediate  crowd,  and  saluted  the  unexpected.  He 
could  not  recall  the  names  of  the  pair,  could  not  indeed 
recall  if  he  had  ever  known  their  names,  but  he  felt  oddly 
pleasured  at  being  thus  greeted  on  a  course  where  he 
expected  little  greeting. 

"God  save  you,  my  masters,"  he  said  pleasantly.  "It  is 
good  to  meet  you  again.  But  I  thought  that  when  last  we 
met  you  were  making  for  London  town." 

"We  were  indeed  making  for  London  town,"  the  French- 
man replied,  nipping  into  the  conversation  more  briskly  than 
his  companion,  "and  we  reached  London  town,  and  we  love 
London  town,  and  we  are  loath  to  leave  London  town,  and 
yet  I  should  be  prepared,  if  I  were  debating  for  my  degree 
at  the  Sorbonne,  to  maintain  that  we  are  still,  in  the  truly 
logical  sense,  in  London  town." 

Philemon  stared  blankly  at  the  speaker.  The  fatigue  of 
his  journey  had  anew  asserted  itself  over  the  momentary 
flicker  of  vitality  caused  by  the  sight  of  the  two  familiar 
faces  in  the  tavern  window. 


288  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"I  do  not  follow  you,"  he  drawled  weakly.  "How  can 
you  make  a  reasonable  claim  to  be  in  London  town  when 
you  are  face  to  face  with  me  here  in  honest  Exeter?" 

The  Italian  shrugged  his  shoulders  expressively,  as  if  to 
imply  that  he,  like  Philemon,  could  make  nothing  of  the 
foolish  speech  of  his  friend.  But  the  Frenchman  rose 
briskly  to  the  bait. 

"Marry  thusly,"  he  replied.  "Is  not  London  the  capital 
city  of  England.  Grant  you  me  that?" 

Philemon  nodded.  He  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  the 
dancing-master's  drift  and  was  already  vaguely  regretting 
his  halt.  The  Frenchman  nodded  and  chuckled. 

"Tell  me  further,"  he  said,  "is  not  the  Sovereign  of 
all  England  pleased  to  dwell  in  her  capital  city?" 

Again  Philemon  nodded,  less  perhaps  from  acquiescence 
than  from  lassitude. 

"Why  then,"  persisted  the  Frenchman,  "I  should  make 
bold  to  maintain  that  if  the  Queen  of  England  lives  in  her 
capital  city  this  city  must  be  her  capital  city  and  therefore 
that  this  city  wherein  we  change  speech  is  not  Exeter  but 
London." 

Fatigue  fell  like  a  discarded  mantle  from  the  shoulders 
of  Philemon,  and  his  face  flew  alertness  like  a  banner. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  he  cried,  in  a  voice  so  suddenly 
loud  that  it  startled  the  pair  whom  he  addressed,  "that  her 
Majesty  is  in  Exeter  at  this  present?" 

"Very  surely  she  is  here,"  said  the  Italian  before  his 
colleague  could  reply,  "and  that  is  why  the  streets  are 
brave  with  banners  and  the  multitude  swarm  upon  the 
pavement." 

Astonishment  and  hope  agitated  the  heart  of  Philemon 
so  greatly  that  he  could  scarce  sit  straight  in  his  saddle. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  asked  hoarsely,  "if  by  any  chance 
my  lord  of  Godalming  accompanies  the  Queen?" 

The  Frenchman  and  the  Italian  agreed  in  laughing  at 
the  query.  But  this  time  the  Frenchman  resumed  com- 
mand of  the  conversation. 

"How  otherwise  would  we  be  here?"  he  queried,  with 
that  cheerful  egotism  that  takes  for  granted  a  worldwide 
knowledge  of  one's  own  affairs.  "Since  we  are,  and  I  thank 
Heaven  for  it,  in  my  lord's  service  and  help  to  lighten  his 


PHILEMON  MEETS  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE     289 

age  and  dispel  his  cares,  it  is  but  natural  that  we  go  where 
my  lord  goes." 

"Where  is  my  lord  ?"  Philemon  asked,  in  a  voice  so  thick 
with  emotion  that  the  Frenchman's  eyebrows  went  up  in 
surprise,  and  he  marvelled  at  the  wild  light  in  Philemon's 
hitherto  sleepy  eyes. 

"Why  he  lodges  at  the  'Bird  in  the  Hand,'  "  he  answered, 
and  was  preparing  to  say  more  when  he  found  that  if  he 
did  he  would  address  himself  to  vacancy.  For  the  moment 
Philemon  had  heard  the  name  of  the  inn,  which  was  indeed 
that  in  which  he  had  proposed  to  pass  the  night,  he  jerked 
his  spurs  into  his  horse's  sides  and  clattered  off  along  the 
High  Street  at  a  pace  that  promised  peril  to  the  wayfarers' 
unless  they  hurriedly  made  a  lane  for  his  impatience. 

The  Frenchman  glanced  at  the  Italian  and  made  a  com- 
ical gesture  with  his  hands. 

"Those  English,"  he  said  with  expressive  significance. 

"Mad,"  said  the  Italian  laconically,  and  tapped  his  fore- 
head. 

Then  the  pair  returned  to  their  wine  and  forgot  all  about 
Philemon  plunging  along  the  High  Street. 

Now  albeit  to  Philemon  it  seemed  little  less  than  a  miracle 
that  had  brought  my  lord  of  Godalming  so  suddenly  close 
to  him,  there  was  in  cold  fact  nothing  that  was  at  all  mirac- 
ulous in  the  happening  and  very  little  that  was  surprising. 

This  is  what  had  occurred.  On  the  day  when  my  lord 
Godalming  received  a  letter  from  his  kinswoman  at  King's 
Welcome,  telling  him  of  Clarenda's  whimsy  concerning  the 
land-ship  and  her  intimacy  with  Master  Hercules  Flood,  it 
pleased  the  Queen  to  ask  her  counsellor,  as  she  was  wont 
to  ask  him  most  mornings,  what  tidings  he  had  of  his 
betrothed.  On  this  occasion  my  lord  replied  with  equal 
composure  and  frankness  as  he  had  replied  before.  The 
Queen  grinned  at  him. 

"This  mawkin  of  yours,"  she  said,  "is  going  to  cause 
trouble.  If  you  were  a  sensible  man,  my  lord,  you  would 
go  and  look  after  your  fledgling." 

"If  that  is  your  Majesty's  opinion,"  said  my  lord,  po- 
litely tranquil,  "I  am  quite  prepared  to  act  upon  it.  Have 
I  your  Majesty's  permission  to  quit  the  Court  for  a  season 
and  journey  into  Devon?" 


290  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Travel  was  one  of  the  passions  of  Elizabeth's  extravant 
nature.  She  still,  at  her  advanced  age,  loved  to  make  pro- 
gresses through  this  part  and  that  part  of  her  dominions, 
staying  at  great  houses,  where  she  proved  an  exacting 
guest,  an  exasperating  guest.  Now  the  name  of  Devon 
fired  her  with  an  itch  to  amble. 

"By  my  father's  beard !"  she  cried,  "I  have  no  mind 
to  do  without  your  company.  We  have  been  together  too 
long  to  part  in  a  hurry,  when" — she  paused  a  moment  and 
then  said,  with  an  emphasis  on  the  pronoun — "when  you 
carry  such  a  weight  of  years.  Yet  I  think  that  baggage  of 
yours  needs  looking  after.  Wherefore,  to  reconcile  both 
our  minds,  I  have  it  in  my  mind  that  we  shall,  journey 
together  into  the  West  Country  and  cheer  our  loyal  Devons." 

When  her  Majesty  took  a  fancy  into  her  head  my  lord 
knew  that  there  was  no  gainsaying  her,  even  if  he  had 
wished  to  gainsay  her.  And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  a  select 
portion  of  the  Court  proceeded  to  journey  at  ease  and 
leisure  on  the  road  to  the  West  Country,  with  the  Queen 
and  Jock  Holiday  and  my  lord  of  Godalming  at  its  head. 
The  pompous  company  halted  at  stately  mansion  after 
stately  mansion  on  the  stages  of  its  way,  and  enjoyed  itself 
or  did  not  enjoy  itself  according  as  its  individual  units 
inclined  or  disinclined  to  voyage.  When  the  party  reached 
Exeter  her  Majesty  was  the  guest  of  the  Bishop's  Palace 
with  most  of  her  following.  But  it  was  an  old  custom  in 
the  West  Country  that  when  the  lord  of  King's  Welcome 
journeyed  towards  his  own  house  by  Plymouth,  he,  if  he 
halted  at  Exeter,  honoured  the  "Bird  in  the  Hand"  with 
his  presence. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

NEWS  FOR  MY  LORD 

my  lord  of  Godalming,  sitting  alone  in  his  great 
chamber,  in  the  "Bird  in  the  Hand,"  came  a  mes- 
senger from  the  anteroom  to  say  that  one  was  without  who 
had  ridden  in  haste  from  Plymouth  with  urgent  news 
for  my  lord.  He  had  barbed  the  shaft  of  his  business  with 
the  words  that  his  errand  concerned  King's  Welcome.  My 
lord  allowed  the  shadow  of  a  frown  to  trouble  the  serenity 
of  his  countenance.  Then  he  was  serene  again  and  bade 
admit  the  news-b  ringer. 

Philemon  Minster,  haggard  with  fatigue,  dashed  with 
dust  from  hatband  to  spur-leather,  his  jerkin  stained  with 
his  sweating,  and  his  cheeks  ruddled  with  the  wind,  limped 
into  the  room  and  saluted  the  famous  Minister  of  State. 

Philemon  had  too  sensitive  an  imagination  not  to  be 
keenly  impressed  by  the  presence  in  which  he  stood.  Here 
was  a  man  who  for  more  than  twice  the  length  of  Phile- 
mon's amiable,  aimless,  delicate  existence  had  dealt  with 
the  intimate  concerns  of  nations,  shuffled  the  cards  of 
policy  with  kings  of  the  blood  and  princes  of  the  Church, 
and  helped  very  vigorously  to  decide  the  immediate  destinies 
of  the  world.  And  into  this  august  presence,  this  almost 
awesome  presence,  Philemon  felt  that  he  came  blundering 
as  a  foolish  bird  or  a  foolish  bee  blunders  into  a  room.  He 
paused  as  the  door  closed  behind  him,  conscious  of  the  con- 
trast between  himself  and  his  host.  But  he  reminded 
himself  that  he  had  come  on  the  service  of  Clarenda  and 
that  the  great  man  whom  he  faced  with  throbbing  pulses 
was  also  the  affianced  husband  of  the  loveliest  lady  in  the 
world. 

"My  lord,"  he  said,  recovering  his  courage  with  an  ef- 
fort, "Mistress  Clarenda  Constant,  your  plighted  bride,  has 
291 


292  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

been  carried  off  by  one  Hercules  Flood,  that  I  had  ever 
esteemed  as  an  honest  man,  and  he  holds  her  a  prisoner 
in  his  castle  on  the  moor." 

My  lord  of  Godalming  received  this  amazing  informa- 
tion without  the  least  disturbance  of  equanimity.  Before 
he  replied  to  it  and  before  he  gave  any  sign  that  he  compre- 
hended its  importance,  he  slipped  his  fingers  into  the 
handle  of  his  table-drawer  and  very  precisely  selected  a 
packet  of  letters. 

"Hercules  Flood,"  he  said  evenly.  "The  name  is  very 
familiar  to  me  and  with  good  reason.  I  have  brought 
with  me" — and  he  held  up  the  packet  as  he  spoke  for  the 
contemplation  of  the  astonished  Philemon — "a  number  of 
reports  from  Captain  Hercules  Flood,  written  from  time 
to  time  during  the  last  ten  years,  and  all  of  them  of  most 
admirable  quality,  sagacious,  full  of  observation,  instinct 
with  honour,  no  less  than  with  humour,  conspicuous  for 
clarity,  precision  and  foresight.  How  does  it  come  about 
that  this  Hercules  Flood  has  become  a  purloiner  of  other 
men's  brides?" 

Philemon  gaped  at  him,  amazed  at  the  tranquillity  with 
which  the  renowned  famous  statesman  accepted  his  tidings. 

"Alas,  my  lord,"  he  cried,  "I  cannot  answer  you.  I 
would  to  Heaven  I  could.  The  man  was  my  dear  friend, 
my  idol,  fearless,  blameless,  magnificent.  And  yet  he  has 
done  this  wicked  thing." 

"How,"  questioned  my  lord  pensively,  "do  you  know  that 
it  is  a  wicked  thing?  How  comes  it  that  you  have  so. 
suddenly  revolted  against  your  idol  ?" 

Philemon's  answer  was  to  draw  from  the  bosom  of  his 
jerkin  the  letter  which  Clarenda  had  attached  to  the  arrow 
and  to  tell  Lord  Godalming  the  tale  of  how  he  found  it 
and  of  his  interview  with  Hercules  Flood  and  of  what 
happened  thereat.  My  lord  listened  attentively  with  no 
change  of  countenance  or  display  of  emotion.  Once  or 
twice  indeed  Philemon  believed  that  sometimes  the  faint- 
est shadow  of  a  smile  and  sometimes  the  faintest  shadow 
of  a  frown  flickered  over  the  ancient  stately  face,  but  he 
told  himself  afterwards  that  he  could  not  be  sure  of  this. 

"What  is  your  name,  sir?"  asked  my  lord  when  Phile- 
mon had  delivered  his  story.  Philemon  gave  his  name,  and 


NEWS  FOR  MY  LORD  293 

this  time  my  lord's  smile  was  patent  and  unrepressed; 
happily  it  was  a  smile  of  approval. 

"Are  you,"  he  said,  "the  same  Philemon  Minster  who 
is  the  accomplished  author  of  a  chap-book  of  verses  entitled 
'Swans  of  Parnassus'?" 

In  spite  of  himself  Philemon  could  not  help  reddening 
with  pleasure. 

"I  am  indeed,"  he  admitted,  "but  I  marvel  that  your 
lordship  should  be  cognisant  of  my  indiscretions." 

"I  am  interested,"  said  my  lord  carefully,  "in  all  that 
concerns  the  greatness  of  our  State.  I  believe  we  English- 
men mean  to  be  as  famous  in  letters  as  in  arms.  So  it 
pleases  me,  in  spite  of  my  years,  to  keep  in  touch  with  the 
poets,  young  sir,  and  I  found  no  small  measure  of  content 
in  your  'Swans  of  Parnassus.'" 

"Your  lordship  is  very  good  to  say  so  much,"  replied 
Philemon,  whose  anxiety  was  stronger  than  his  vanity, 
"but  I  would  wish  to  recall  your  attention  to  the  grave 
case  of  Mistress  Clarenda  Constant — your  plighted  bride." 

"You  are  very  earnest  in  the  cause  of  Mistress  Clarenda 
Constant,"  said  my  lord.  "It  is  good  to  see  a  young  man 
so  chivalrous,  and  I  am  glad  to  think  that  the  world  is 
not  waxing  old.  May  I  ask  if  you  have  any  acquaintance 
with  the  lady  of  whom  we  speak?" 

Philemon's  pale  face  coloured  a  lively  crimson  and  he 
fidgeted  nervously  with  the  edge  of  his  hat. 

"It  was  my  rare  good  fortune,"  he  faltered,  "once  to 
behold  the  lady  as  she  rode  on  the  moor,  but  it  has  never 
been  my  felicity  to  have  speech  with  her." 

My  lord  of  Godalming  nodded  gravely. 

"I  see,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "I  see.  I  am  grateful  to 
you  for  recalling  me  to  my  duty.  Will  you  be  so  good  as 
to  await  me  here  while  I  go  to  acquaint  the  Queen  of  this 
matter.  My  servants  shall  bring  you  some  refreshment 
which  you  must  need  after  your  journey." 

Philemon,  with  a  still  flaming  face,  acknowledged  the 
politeness  of  Lord  Godalming  with  a  bow.  My  lord  sum- 
moned a  servant;  gave  him  instructions  touching  the  wel- 
fare of  Philemon  and  then  quitted  the  chamber  without 
the  least  sign  of  agitation  on  his  countenance  or  in  his 
carriage. 


294  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

When  my  lord  of  Godalming  reached  the  Bishop's  Pal- 
ace and,  after  some  slight  delay,  gained  the  presence  of 
his  Sovereign  he  told  her  the  tale  that  Philemon  Minster 
had  told  him  and  he  gave  her  Clarenda's  missive  to  read. 

The  Queen  listened,  and  the  Queen  read,  and  the  Queen 
spoke.  "By  the  beard  of  my  father,"  she  said,  "here  is  a 
pretty  kettle  of  fish." 

My  lord  bowed  gravely  in  agreement  with  her  Majesty's 
opinion. 

"I  told  you  you  were  courting  trouble  when  you  suitored 
this  trollop  of  yours,"  said  Elizabeth.  "What  is  the  mat- 
ter with  the  men  that  they  make  such  a  bother  over  the 
wench?  First  you  and  then  this  freebooter,  and  Heaven 
knows  who  else  beside." 

It  may  be  that  the  thought  occurred  to  Lord  Godalming 
that  he  could  name  one  name  that  was  in  the  Queen's 
mind.  If  it  did  it  found  no  expression  in  his  face. 

"The  minx  is  well  enough  to  be  sure,"  the  Queen  con- 
tinued, "but  I  protest  she  is  no  Helen  thus  to  be  snatched 
away  from  you,  my  poor  Lord  Menelaus.  And  who  is  this 
new  Paris  that  is  playing  you  this  scurvy  trick?  I  seem 
to  remember  the  fellow's  wild  name." 

Lord  Godalming  repeated  very  much  what  he  had  al- 
ready said  to  Philemon  Minster  concerning  Hercules  Flood, 
in  the  same  manner  of  dispassionate  commendation.  The 
Queen  nodded  her  head  sagaciously. 

"I  mind  me  of  the  rascal  now,"  she  said,  "though  I 
never  saw  him  but  once,  but  I  heard  his  strange  name 
then  and  I  have  heard  it  since  now  and  again  on  the  lips 
of  your  lordship." 

My  lord  bowed. 

"He  is  a  sturdy,  independent  fellow,  that  goes  his  own 
way  and  fights  for  his  own  hand,"  he  said,  "but  he  has 
often  been  of  service  to  your  Majesty." 

The  Queen  seemed  still  to  be  busy  in  recollection. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  remember  him  well.  Sir  Francis 
Drake  brought  him  to  me  with  a  number  of  his  men  after 
our  great  victory.  I  recall  him  because  he  was  the  finest 
fellow  of  them  all  and  I  asked  for  his  name  and  laughed 
when  I  heard  it.  I  think,  if  I  may  say  so,  that  he  was  not 
a  little  taken  with  our  poor  charms,  for  I  remember  that 


NEWS  FOR  MY  LORD  295 

he  stared  and  stared  as  if  he  could  not  take  his  eyes  from 
my  face." 

"A  youth  of  so  much  sense  and  judgment  as  he  has 
since  proved  himself  to  possess  could  scarcely  fail  to  ap- 
preciate the  beauty  of  Gloriana,"  said  my  lord  senten- 
tiously. 

The  Queen  rewarded  the  old  courtier  with  a  little  minc- 
ing smile. 

"Well,"  she  asked,  "what  do  you  propose  to  do,  my  lord, 
in  this  business?" 

"With  your  Majesty's  gracious  permission,"  replied  Lord 
Godalming,  "I  propose  to  go  at  once  into  Plymouth  and 
take  the  matter  in  hand  myself." 

The  Queen  looked  approval. 

"Do  so,  do  so,"  she  said.  "You  shall  act  as  our  repre- 
sentative in  this  matter."  She  paused  for  a  moment  and 
then  added  with  an  air  of  pleased  afterthought:  "And 
honest  Jock  Holiday  shall  go  with  you  to  serve  you  with 
his  common  sense." 

Lord  Godalming  made  a  deep  inclination  in  sign  of 
gratitude  at  this  mark  of  favour. 

"Your  Majesty  is  too  good  to  your  poor  servant,"  he 
assured  her.  "Have  I  your  Majesty's  permission  to  set 
forth  at  once?" 

"Surely,  surely,"  said  the  Queen.  "The  sooner  the  bet- 
ter. But  before  you  go  I  wish  you  would  tell  me,  my  lord, 
why  you  take  all  this  trouble  so  coolly.  I  thought  your 
old  blood  would  be  on  fire  with  indignation." 

"My  old  blood,"  replied  Lord  Godalming,  with  a  faint 
smile,  "is  as  hot  as  ever  to  resent  an  affront,  I  can  assure 
your  Majesty.  But  there  is  something  strange  in  this  case 
and  I  cannot  speak  upon  it  with  precision.  From  what 
I  know  indirectly  of  this  Hercules  Flood  and  from  what 
I  have  learned  from  Master  Philemon  Minster,  who  adores 
him  almost  to  idolisation,  though  he  has  gone  against  him 
in  this  matter,  I  am  led  to  believe  that  his  bearing  towards 
Mistress  Constant  is  absolutely  honourable." 

"Although  he  has  made  her  a  prisoner,"  commented  the 
Queen  with  a  sneer.  "A  lusty  young  man  with  a  pretty 
lass  for  captive.  Come,  come,  my  lord,  I  think  I  find  you 
somewhat  too  credulous." 


296  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"Nevertheless,"  persisted  my  lord,  "with  your  Majesty's 
permission  I  must  still  keep  to  my  opinion  until  I  have 
reason  to  judge  otherwise.  And  now,  with  your  Majesty's 
good  leave,  I  would  be  fain  to  depart  that  I  may  the  sooner 
get  to  the  heart  of  this  mystery." 

"Go,  my  Red  Cross  Champion,"  said  the  Queen  with  a 
grin,  "go  and  rescue  your  Una  from  this  felon  knight. 
But  remember  to  take  Jock  Holiday  with  you  as  your 
squire,  for  he  is  like  to  deliver  me  a  more  impartial  re- 
port than  I  could  count  on  from  your  lordship's  passion  for 
this  girl." 

My  lord  had  taken  the  Queen's  queer  humours  in  good 
part  for  so  large  a  portion  of  his  life  that  he  found,  or 
showed,  no  difficulty  in  accepting  them  now,  albeit  they 
pricked  so  deepfy  at  his  own  private  interests. 

"Have  I  your  Majesty's  authority,"  he  asked  quietly, 
"to  deal  with  this  foolish  business  as  I  deem  best  ?" 

"Aye,  aye,"  the  Queen  answered,  "do  as  you  will,  always 
remembering  that  there  be  the  law  and  the  Commons  to 
consider.  And  when  you  have  got  this  turbulent  fellow 
— Flood,  did  you  call  him — in  hand,  see  to  it  that  I  have  a 
sight  of  him,  for  indeed  I  bear  him  a  kindness  for  the 
way  he  adored  me  in  Armada  year." 

My  lord  bowed  acquiescence,  took  his  leave  and  re- 
turned to  the  "Bird  in  the  Hand,"  where  he  gave  certain 
orders  to  his  chamberlain.  Then  he  found  Philemon  still 
plying  the  flagon,  and  notably  none  the  better  for  it. 

"Bestir,  my  young  friend,  bestir,"  chided  my  lord,  "for 
it  is  very  meet  and  peremptory  that  we  should  be  at  King's 
Welcome  before  this  day  be  done." 

To  the  wine-dizzy  Philemon  it  seemed  an  impossibility 
that  he  could  mount  horse  again  for  a  ride  of  some  thirty 
miles,  or  that  my  lord  at  his  age  could  attempt  so  rash  an 
experiment. 

"I  have  read,  my  lord,"  he  said  with  a  vinous  smile, 
"that  Leonardo,  the  great  Italian,  maintained  that  one  day 
flying  may  be  permitted  to  men,  but  the  time  is  not  yet, 
and  we  cannot  fly  from  Exeter  to  Plymouth." 

My  lord  knitted  his  brows  in  a  reproving  frown. 

"We  must  wait  upon  the  dreamer's  good  pleasure  for 
taking  the  way  of  the  air,  but  we  still,  I  thank  Heaven, 


NEWS  FOR  MY  LORD  297 

hold  command  of  the  ground,  and  we  shall  get  to  Plymouth 
in  good  time.  If  we  cannot  have  pinions  we  can  have 
litters,  and  so  we  shall  travel  at  ease  and  arrive  at  King's 
Welcome  ready  to  take  our  share  and  play  our  part  in 
whatever  is  doing." 

Thereupon  my  lord  and  Philemon  descended  into  the 
courtyard  of  the  inn,  where  two  litters  awaited  them  at- 
tended by  a  company  of  gentlemen  fully  armed  and  all 
bearing  torches.  My  lord  introduced  Philemon  to  one 
litter,  entered  the  other  himself,  gave  the  signal  for  de- 
parture and  the  whole  cavalcade,  with  clattering  hoofs  and 
flaming  lights,  passed  out  of  Exeter  on  to  the  open  road. 

The  journeying  of  the  pair  was  very  different,  for 
whereas  Master  Philemon  Minster  was  no  sooner  aboard  his 
litter  than  he  dropped  into  a  heavy  sleep  aod  abided  therein 
until  the  term  of  the  journey,  by  reason  of  his  hard  riding 
and  his  busy  day  and  the  heady  wine,  my  lord  of  Godalming, 
with  the  aid  of  an  oil  lamp  that  was  swung  from  a  socket, 
pleased  and  sustained  himself  with  the  refreshment  of 
his  familiar  bedbook,  namely  the  reflections  of  the  illus- 
trious Roman  Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus.  And 
so,  the  one  in  sleep,  the  other  in  study,  the  very  different 
pair  journeyed  the  length  of  miles  that  lay  between  the 
good  city  of  Exeter  and  the  good  city  of  Plymouth.  And 
Master  Philemon  Minster  dreamed  unhappy  dreams,  and 
my  lord  of  Godalming  nodded  himself  into  a  snatch  of 
slumber  over  the  Stoic,  and  the  procession  with  its  flare 
of  torches  snaked  its  way  across  the  night,  like  some  kind 
of  grotesque  terrestrial  comet,  steadily  measuring  and 
lessening  the  distance  between  the  "Bird  in  the  Hand"  and 
King's  Welcome. 

My  lord  arrived  at  King's  Welcome  at  an  hour  when  my 
lady  Gylford  would,  in  the  ordinary  course,  have  been 
long  abed.  But  the  courier  that  my  lord  had  despatched 
ahead  had  kept  her  up  and  agog,  and  had  moreover  gath- 
ered to  her  company  the  three  gentlemen  from  Willoughby 
Homing.  My  lord  listened  with  inscrutable  gravity  to 
what  each  of  the  four  had  to  say,  and  then  with  great  di- 
rectness and  precision  dictated  his  plan  of  action  for  the 
following  morning.  It  was  plain  that  Master  Flood  had 
no  knowledge  of  the  Queen's  progress  or  of  the  near  pres- 


298  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

ence  of  my  lord,  and  would  be  taken  very  much  by  surprise 
by  a  visitation  on  the  following  morning  and  a  summons 
to  surrender  in  the  Queen's  name,  which  he  must  be  as- 
sumed not  madman  enough  to  defy,  however  mad  his  late 
action  might  denote  him.  Thereafter  my  lord  went  com- 
posedly to  bed  and  to  sleep  and  my  lady  Gylford  sought 
her  couch  and  passed  a  troubled  night,  and  the  gentlemen 
drank  and  dozed  where  they  sat.  A  comparatively  in- 
significant member  of  the  household  had,  however,  his  own 
ideas  on  the  matter.  This  was  honest  Master  Sandys,  who 
prepared  to  pass  the  night  in  quite  other  fashion. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

AN  OVERLOOKER 

ON  the  summit  of  Wishing  Hill  a  man  lay  on  his 
stomach  among  the  dried  grasses  and  gazed  across 
the  moorland  in  the  direction  of  Mountdragon.  Wishing 
Hill  is  little  more  than  ten  miles  from  Plymouth,  but  Mount- 
dragon  is  more  than  five  miles  from  Wishing  Hill,  so  an 
ordinary  observer  would  have  gained  little  satisfaction 
from  his  survey.  But  this  was  not  an  ordinary  observer. 
As  he  lay  propped  upon  his  elbows  he  held  in  his  hands 
an  object  of  his  own  manufacture  the  use  of  which  seemed 
to  afford  him  infinite  satisfaction.  It  was  a  tube  of  card, 
about  a  foot  in  length  and  about  an  inch  in  diameter,  and 
the  man  held  it  to  his  right  eye  and  peered  into  it  stead- 
fastly. At  a  little  distance  behind  him  a  jolly-faced  lad 
was  seated  with  his  back  against  one  of  the  thicket  of  trees 
that  crowned  the  hill  and  watched  him  with  eager  curiosity. 
A  little  further  removed,  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  a  tethered 
mule  browsed  contentedly. 

"It's  wonderful,"  the  man  with  the  tube  said  in  a  low 
voice,  lowering  his  instrument  as  he  spoke  and  turning 
a  beaming  face  upon  his  companion.  "It  is  a  pretty  good 
march  to  Mountdragon,  but  I  tell  you  I  might  as  well  be 
on  the  door-steps  as  here  on  Wishing  Hill." 

Master  Sandys  noted  the  desire  in  Jenkin's  eyes  and 
parted  lips  of  wonder  and  his  kindness  replied  to  it. 

Jenkin  nodded  eagerly  and  crawled  to  the  side  of  the 
man,  took  the  tube  gingerly  in  his  hand  and  applied  it 
to  his  eye.  After  a  few  seconds  he  gave  a  gasp  of  delighted 
surprise. 

"Lord,  Master  Sandys,"  he  whispered,  "  'tis  a  marvel, 
I  could  almost  count  the  bricks.  It  must  be  magic.  Are 
you  sure  it  is  lawful?" 

299 


300  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"There  is  no  magic  about  the  thing,"  replied  Sandys  a 
little  severely  as  he  repossessed  himself  of  the  tube.  "A 
little  knowledge,  a  little  observation,  a  little  common  sense, 
are  all  the  spells  I  employed  to  its  creation.  Master  Thomas 
Digges  and  I  have  been  in  correspondence  this  great  while 
touching  this  matter  and  I  have  been  so  favoured  as  to 
read  a  copy  or  exemplar  of  a  treatise  of  his  father,  Master 
Leonard  Digges,  which  is  full  of  enlightenment.  But  I  think 
I  have  bettered  them.  Father  and  son  I  think  I  have 
bettered  them.  I  shall  write  a  paper  on  it  for  the  Uni- 
versity of  Leyden.  I  can  tell  you  more  of  its  construction 
another  time,  for  just  now  we  have  other  eels  to  skin." 

Sandys  had  again  turned  his  tube  in  the  direction  of 
Mountdragon  and  he  lay  for  some  time  in  observant  silence. 
It  was  early  morning.  Sandys  had  been  there  before  dawn ; 
Jenkin  and  the  mule  Bucephalus  had  but  newly  joined  him. 
Sandys  kept  silence  now  for  a  long  time ;  it  seemed  ages  to 
Jenkin,  who  had  resumed  his  tree  and  sat  staring  at  his 
supervisor  and  musing  over  his  brief  experience  of  what 
had  seemed  to  him  wizardry.  At  long  last  Sandys  lifted 
a  foot  and  shook  it  as  if  to  attract  the  boy's  attention. 
Then  he  spoke  rapidly  in  the  same  hushed  voice  as  before. 
It  was  notable  that  man  and  boy  moved  and  spoke  as  if 
they  shunned  discovery. 

"They  are  lowering  the  portcullis,"  Sandys  said.  He 
was  silent  again  for  a  little;  then  he  resumed.  "A  cart 
drives  out  with  some  women  in  it.  It  is  drawn  by  two 
mules  and  is  driven  at  a  quick  pace  across  the  moor  in  the 
direction  of  Tor  Bay." 

Sandys  turned  on  his  elbow  as  if  to  follow  or  anticipate 
the  course  of  the  cart  and  uttered  a  little  cry. 

"I  can  spy  a  sail  in  Tor  Bay,"  he  said.  "It  seems  to  ride 
at  anchor."  He  swept  his  glance  back  again  to  Mount- 
dragon  and  continued  his  communication.  "Men  are  riding 
out  leading  mules  with  loaded  pack-saddles.  They  follow 
the  direction  of  the  cart  and  will  soon  overtake  it.  Here 
is  a  problem  the  solution  of  which  should  not  be  very  diffi- 
cult to  the  trained  logician.  Bestir,  Jenkin,  bestir ;  get  you 
quick  astride  Bucephalus  and  prick  at  your  best  speed  to 
King's  Welcome.  There  seek  my  lord  and  tell  him  that 
the  inhabitants  of  Mountdragon  are  quitting  the  castle  and 


AN  OVERLOOKER  301 

making  for  Tor  Bay  where  there  is  a  ship  waiting  in  the 
offing.  My  lord  will  understand  what  to  do.  Lose  no 
time  in  this.  Ah!  there's  a  good  lad!" 

These  last  words  were  spoken  commendingly  as  Sandys, 
turning  his  head,  saw  that  his  companion  had  already  un- 
tethered  Bucephalus  and  was  seated  in  the  saddle. 

"God  be  with  you,  Master  Sandys,"  Jenkin  cried.  Then 
he  waved  a  hand,  wheeled  the  mule  round,  jerked  his 
heels  into  the  animal's  sides,  and  disappeared  down  the 
slope  of  the  hill  on  a  surefooted  trot. 

Master  Sandys  returned  to  his  perspective-glass.  He  was 
so  enchanted  by  the  results  of  his  experiment,  results  that 
seemed  to  him  magnificently  satisfactory,  that  he  was  in 
danger  of  forgetting  the  gravity  of  his  business  in  the 
immediate  and  peculiar  pleasure  it  afforded  him.  But  his 
sense  of  duty  briskly  returned  to  him  when,  after  the 
passage  of  a  small  company  of  horsemen  over  the  draw- 
bridge to  follow  the  previous  trail,  these  were  followed 
by  a  man  on  a  massive  black  horse  who  was  leading  by 
the  bridle  a  white  palfrey  with  a  vast  side-saddle  that  car- 
ried a  woman. 

"My  deductions  were  accurate,"  Master  Sandys  mur- 
mured approvingly  to  his  beard.  "It  is  to  be  hoped  that 
the  folk  at  King's  Welcome  will  have  the  sense  to  act 
upon  them.  Anyway  I  have  done  my  best.  O  blessed, 
blessed  instrument!" 

Therewith  he  patted  the  magic  tube  very  lovingly  with 
his  palm  and  again  applying  it  to  its  purpose  watched  the 
cavalier  and  the  lady  proceed  at  an  easy  amble  on  the 
course  of  their  predecessors.  Behind  them  was  the  lowered 
drawbridge  and  the  great  gate  of  Mountdragon  yawning 
like  an  open  mouth. 

Master  Sandys  peered  with  a  sense  of  unexplainable 
fascination  at  the  abandoned  castle.  There  was,  to  his 
speculative  mind,  something  pitiable  in  the  thought  of  this 
stronghold  that  had  lately  shown  so  formidable,  now  lying 
open  to  any  passing  bird  or  prowling  beast  or  pilfering 
vagabond.  Some  thought  arising  out  of  Master  Sandys' 
moralising  seemed  suddenly  to  quicken  him  from  passive 
observation  to  immediate  action.  Thrusting  his  precious 
perspective-glass  into  the  bosom  of  his  jacket  he  proceeded, 


302  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

in  a  crawling  motion,  to  descend  the  opposite  side  of  Wish- 
ing Hill  to  that  on  which  Bucephalus  had  disappeared. 
As  if  he  believed  or  feared  that  those  he  had  lately  been 
watching  possessed  the  powers  that  he  possessed  he  acted 
as  if  he  were  at  the  greatest  pains  to  keep  out  of  sight  of 
possible  observers.  It  was  by  no  means  easy  or  agree- 
able to  travel  as  Master  Sandys  was  travelling,  now  crouch- 
ing in  a  hunched-up  attitude,  now  creeping  on  all  fours,  now 
running  with  his  body  a  little  more  erect  where  good  cover 
was  afforded,  but  his  native  sturdiness  and  his  daily  activ- 
ity served  him  well,  so  well  indeed  that  in  a  little  more  than 
an  hour's  time  he  had  come  through  patches  of  forest  and 
spaces  of  moor  and  was  standing  breathless  but  exultant  in 
front  of  the  lowered  drawbridge  of  Mountdragon. 

He  paused  for  a  moment  and  looked  about  him.  The 
fugitives  from  Mountdragon  had  disappeared  from  the 
range  of  his  vision  and  he  did  not  now  seek  to  supplement 
it  with  the  aid  of  his  cherished  instrument.  Instead  he 
rapidly  crossed  the  abandoned  drawbridge  and  passed,  with 
a  queer  sense  of  adventure,  into  the  deserted  courtyard  of 
the  keep.  He  stood  there  for  a  moment  alert,  suspicious, 
observant,  asking  himself  if  he  were  really  alone  in  the 
place.  There  was  no  sight,  no  sound  to  suggest  the  pres- 
ence of  any  other  human  being.  He  called  aloud  and  only 
the  echoing  walls  answered  him.  He  ran  this  way  and 
that,  scaling  stairways  and  peering  into  empty  rooms,  and 
every  step  he  took  gave  him  further  assurance  of  his  soli- 
tude. There  was  something  strange  and  fantastic  in  the 
place,  so  fairly  arrayed,  so  bravely  furnished,  and  yet  so 
castaway  and  desolate. 

But  Master  Sandys  had  no  time  to  allow  himself  the 
luxury  of  philosophical  reflections.  He  had  come,  upon  a 
sudden  inspiration,  to  effect  a  certain  purpose.  Swiftly 
he  returned  to  the  courtyard;  swiftly  he  entered  the  little 
chamber  at  the  side  of  the  great  gate  which  sheltered  the 
windlass  wherewith  the  portcullis  was  lowered  and  raised. 
Gripping  the  handle  and  making  to  exert  all  his  strength 
he  proceeded  to  turn  it.  To  his  surprise  and  satisfaction 
it  worked  more  easily  than  he  expected  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  drawbridge  was  raised  and  Mountdragon  again 
temporarily  inviolable. 


CHAPTER    XL 

IN  THE  TOILS 

HERCULES  moved  through  the  clear  bright  morning 
with  spirits  that  were  well-nigh  as  blithe  as  the  day. 
Although  Clarenda  rode  by  his  side,  sullen  and  silent,  still 
she  was  riding  by  his  side  and  she  was  to  journey  in  his 
company  upon  the  sea  to  the  worlds  beyond  the  sea.  He 
told  himself  that  she  would  surely  love  him  yet;  that  the 
spark  of  love  was  still  in  her  heart,  though  it  was  for  the 
moment  smothered  under  the  ashes  of  her  anger,  and 
that  it  was  in  his  power  to  blow  upon  that  spark  and  quicken 
it  into  a  living  flame.  His  spirits  rose,  too,  at  the  thought  of 
going  aboard  his  ship  again  and  hearing  the  winds  sing  in 
the  sails  and  pushing  his  way  across  the  changing  waters. 
He  was  well  aware  that  his  exploit  had  made  England  an 
impossible  habitation  for  him,  but  he  did  not  allow  him- 
self to  regret  this  or  do  more  than  remember  that  there 
are  other  lands  under  fiercer  suns  where  the  strong  arm 
and  the  long  sword  could  carve  themselves  a  goodly  lord- 
ship. 

Once  or  twice  he  addressed  some  words  to  Clarenda, 
but  she  made  him  no  answer  and  he  abandoned  the  attempt 
to  engage  her  in  talk.  Her  face  was  set  in  a  bitter  frown 
at  this  new  denial  of  her  sudden  hope  of  liberty. 

The  pair  had  ridden  some  distance  over  the  moorland, 
each  busy  with  widely  different  meditations.  Already  the 
air  was  crisper  with  the  saltness  of  the  sea;  already  on 
the  nearing  water  The  Golden  Hart  swayed  like  a  feather. 
Where  the  land  began  to  slope  towards  the  ocean  they 
found  themselves  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  mounted 
mariners.  On  the  more  distant  beach  a  cart  was  drawn 
up  and  a  ship's  boat  containing  the  women  of  the  house- 
hold of  Mountdragon  was  being  rowed  quickly  to  the 
waiting  ship. 

303 


304  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Hercules  gave  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  as  he  beheld  the 
pleasing  scene,  but  his  satisfaction  was  sharply  interrupted 
by  a  little  cry  which  broke  involuntarily  from  Clarenda's 
lips.  He  turned  quickly  to  look  at  her  face  and  then 
his  glance,  swiftly  following  her  eager  averted  gaze,  saw 
that  which  staggered  him  well-nigh  to  madness.  Out  of 
the  near  cover  of  a  patch  of  woodland  to  the  right  more 
than  a  mile  away  a  number  of  horsemen  emerged  and  made 
in  their  direction  at  full  speed.  Hercules  knew  in  a  moment 
that  these  were  in  pursuit  and  he  measured  the  distance 
between  himself  and  the  beach  to  see  if  by  riding  hard 
they  might  yet  outstrip  his  enemies.  He  had  almost  de- 
cided that  there  was  a  chance  when  from  the  far  end  of 
the  wood  a  further  company  of  horsemen  issued,  who 
galloped  along  the  cliff  edge  to  cut  him  and  his  fellows 
off  from  the  sea. 

It  was  plain  to  Hercules  that  his  game  was  spoiled.  It 
was  plain,  too,  to  his  followers,  who  had  halted  their  horses 
and  were  looking  round  to  him  for  command.  Hercules 
had  already  gauged  the  number  of  his  enemies  and  realised 
that  his  little  force  was  outnumbered  by  more  than  four 
to  one.  All  this  took  but  a  few  seconds  of  time,  but  in 
those  seconds  Clarenda  had  jumped  from  the  great  chair- 
like  side-saddle  and  was  running  across  the  uneven  ground 
in  the  direction  of  the  advancing  troop.  Hercules  swung 
his  horse  round  after  her.  "Scatter,  save  yourselves,"  he 
shouted  to  his  hesitating  mariners,  as  he  dashed  after  the 
fugitive.  He  hardly  knew  what  he  was  doing  or  why  he 
did  it;  only  he  felt  a  kind  of  desperate  resolve  to  follow 
out  to  the  last  the  course  he  had  so  far  pursued.  In  an- 
other instant  he  had  overtaken  Clarenda  and,  hardly  paus- 
ing, he  stooped  from  his  saddle  as  he  reached  the  girl  and 
putting  an  arm  round  her  waist  swung  her  to  the  saddle 
in  front  of  him  as  he  turned  his  horse  in  his  tracks.  The 
screams  of  Clarenda  and  the  shouts  of  his  pursuers  mingled 
in  an  unmeaning  din  in  his  ears  while  he  dashed  at  a  head- 
long fury  towards  Mountdragon  as  the  hunted  wild  beast 
speeds  to  the  refuge  of  its  den.  Time  passed  unheeded  in 
that  wild  ride.  Clarenda  had  shrieked  herself  into  silence, 
and  the  cries  of  his  pursuers  sounded  fainter  and  farther 
off  as  at  last  he  urged  his  horse  up  the  slope  of  Mount- 


IN  THE  TOILS  305 

dragon,  only  to  find  the  drawbridge  raised  and  entrance 
to  his  own  house  denied  him. 

In  a  moment,  as  if  such  a  catastrophe  were  no  more  than 
the  manner  of  welcome  he  had  expected,  Hercules  lowered 
the  dazed  Clarenda  to  the  ground  and  leaped  lightly  from 
his  saddle  after  her.  Unseen  in  the  far  distance  the  pur- 
suers were  urging  their  hunt,  but  Hercules  paid  them  no 
heed.  Taking  Clarenda,  numb  and  unresisting,  by  the 
hand  and  guiding  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  he  led  the  woman 
and  the  animal  to  a  removed  spot  on  the  further  slope  of  the 
Dragon's  Head. 

"I  would  not  have  you  or  my  horse  stand  in  any  risk 
of  harm,"  he  said  quietly — and  Clarenda  harkened  to  him 
dully  as  if  hearing  a  voice  in  a  dream — "but  if  either  of 
you  care  to  look  on  you  may  see  some  pretty  fighting." 

He  slipped  the  horse's  bridle  into  her  hand  and  she  re- 
tained control  of  it  mechanically.  She  might  well  have 
believed  that  it  would  be  hard  to  add  to  her  astonishment, 
but  such  a  wonder  was  reserved  for  her.  For  while  she 
stared  Hercules,  whom  she  had  always  known  as  a  man 
of  leisurely  motion,  was  suddenly  transformed  into  a  crea- 
ture of  fire-like  activity.  There  was  a  small  clump  of 
trees  at  a  little  distance.  Hercules  ran  to  it  with  the  speed 
of  a  boy.  She  saw  him  leap  up  to  sturdy  boughs,  break 
them  down  with  his  weight,  and  wrench  them  with  impetu- 
ous strength  from  their  parent  trunk. 

Clarenda,  dizzy  and  bewildered,  watched  him  as  he  re- 
turned trailing  great  leafy  branches  in  his  hands  and  under 
his  arms.  These  he  dragged  to  the  highest  part  of  the 
Dragon's  Head  where  the  platform  for  the  drawbridge 
stood  and  rapidly  arranged  them  to  form  a  kind  of  rough 
barricade  in  front  of  him.  A  glance  at  the  nearing  riders 
and  a  rapid  calculation  assured  him  that  he  had  still  some 
minutes  for  brisk  business.  He  raced  down  the  slope  to 
a  place  where  a  pile  of  large  stones  stood,  the  leave  of  a 
quantity  that  had  been  used  to  better  the  condition  of  the 
causeway  to  the  castle.  Twice  and  thrice  and  yet  a  fourth 
time  he  came  and  went,  each  time  bearing  the  burden  of 
a  huge  lump  as  easily  as  if  he  had  been  lifting  a  football. 
These  stones  he  arranged  to  stiffen  his  barrier  of  branches 
and  keep  it  in  position. 


306  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

Clarenda  marvelled  to  behold  a  man  in  such  perilous 
straits  acting  in  such  a  manner,  so  brisk  and  swift  and 
nimble  about  his  defence.  Well-nigh  in  spite  of  herself 
her  wonder  found  a  voice. 

"Why,  in  God's  name,"  she  cried,  "do  you  wait  here 
upon  your  death  while  you  have  still  a  horse  and  a  chance 
to  escape?" 

Hercules  looked  at  her  with  a  blazing  earnestness  in  his 
sea-coloured  eyes. 

"Will  you  come  with  me?"  he  asked,  voicing  an  old 
question  with  a  new  vehemence. 

Clarenda  shook  her  head.  The  dogged  obstinacy  of  the 
man  bewildered  her.  Hercules  pushed  his  final  stone  into 
its  place. 

"It  is  never  my  way,"  he  said  lightly,  "to  quit  a  game 
before  the  end.  The  winning  or  losing  rests  with  Heaven, 
but  I  will  lend  Heaven  a  hand  by  making  a  fight  for  it." 

Therewith  he  began  to  lop  off  with  his  dagger  such 
small  branches  of  his  rough  palisade  as  might  interfere 
with  his  defence.  Clarenda,  through  all  the  whirlwind  of 
her  rage  and  sense  of  shame,  found  she  must  needs  admire 
him  as  he  stood  on  the  summit  of  the  Dragon's  Head 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  his  enemies  with  as  much  com- 
posure as  if  he  were  at  the  crest  of  a  regiment,  instead 
of  being  a  lonely  hopeless  man.  The  one  advantage  in  his 
favour,  the  peculiar  formation  of  the  Dragon's  Head,  if  it 
safeguarded  him  from  an  attack  in  the  rear,  could  only 
mean  the  retarding  for  a  very  little  while  of  the  inevitable. 
Clarenda  might  tell  herself  she  hated  the  man,  but  she 
could  not  deny  that  he  had  a  gallant  courage.  She  held 
her  breath  as  she  saw  him  shift  his  dagger  into  his  left 
hand,  and  felt  a  sudden  vague  bewildering  wish  for  his 
safety. 

The  horsemen  came  sweeping  into  view  with  my  lord 
Godalming  at  their  head,  going  as  quick  and  easy  as  the 
youngest  of  his  company.  It  was  not  until  later  that 
Clarenda  found  leisure  to  wonder  at  his  sudden  appear- 
ance. As  the  hunters  reached  the  slope,  some  of  them 
would  have  continued  their  charge  to  the  top,  but  my  lord 
called  a  halt  in  a  ringing  voice  that  commanded  obedience. 
The  company  of  cavaliers  reined  up  in  a  crescent  of  menace 


IN  THE  TOILS  307 

on  the  slope  some  yards  distant  from  their  quarry.  Most 
of  them  were  strangers  to  Clarenda  but  she  saw  familiar 
faces  in  the  throng,  Sir  Batty's  and  Master  Winwood's  and 
Master  Willoughby's,  and  Jock  Holiday  discreetly  in  the 
background.  One  young  man  with  a  pale  face  and  eager 
eyes  was  staring  at  her  intently.  She  did  not  know  his 
name,  but  she  knew  that  she  had  seen  him  before  though 
she  could  not  remember  where  or  when.  She  thrilled  with 
exultation  at  the  sight  of  all  those  zealous  gentlemen  and 
at  the  thought  that,  thanks  to  them,  she  was  at  last  surely 
free.  And  then  involuntarily  she  glanced  away  from  them 
to  the  lonely  imperturbable  figure  at  the  top  of  the  slope, 
whom — so  she  assured  herself — she  hated  so  bitterly. 

My  lord  saluted  Clarenda  with  a  great  wave  of  his 
beaver  but  he  made  for  the  moment  no  motion  to  approach 
her.  Instead  he  faced  upon  Hercules  and  addressed  him. 

"Captain  Flood,"  he  commanded,  "in  the  Queen's  name 
I  call  upon  you  to  yield  yourself  my  prisoner." 

"My  lord,"  Hercules  replied,  with  great  politeness,  "you 
do  indeed  call,  and  with  a  most  commendable  loudness, 
yet  I  have  a  hardness  of  hearing  come  suddenly  upon  me 
which  prevents  me  from  taking  your  meaning." 

Sir  Batty  pulled  a  pistol  from  his  holster  and  took  aim 
at  Hercules.  "Have  done  with  him  for  good  and  all,"  he 
muttered. 

But  before  he  could  pull  trigger  Lord  Godalming  was 
beside  him  and  had  taken  so  stern  a  grip  of  his  arm  as 
to  compel  him  to  lower  his  weapon. 

"You  are  to  take  orders  from  me,"  my  lord  said  fiercely, 
"and  my  orders  are  that  there  must  be  no  shooting.  It 
is  my  wish  that  this  man  be  taken  alive." 

Such  a  wish  was  easy  to  express  but  it  was  far  from 
easy  to  execute.  The  position  in  which  Hercules  was 
placed  made  it  impracticable,  if  not  impossible,  to  effect 
his  capture  by  charging  upon  him  and  riding  him  down. 
The  attempt  would  have  been  too  likely  to  end  in  some 
adventurous  horseman  plunging  over  into  the  ugly  gap 
between  the  Dragon's  Head  and  the  Dragon's  Hump.  A 
hurried  conference  decided  that  an  attempt  must  be  made 
to  attack  Hercules  on  foot  and  for  this  purpose  half  a 
dozen  gentlemen  dismounted,  Sir  Batty  and  Master  Win- 


3o8  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

wood  being  of  the  number,  and  with  drawn  weapons  ad- 
vanced briskly  along  the  Dragon's  Head  to  the  attack. 

Clarenda,  observing  in  a  kind  of  anguish,  saw  that 
Hercules  awaited  the  assault  with  as  tranquil  a  carriage  as 
if  he  were  airing  an  innocent  blade  in  a  fencing-school. 
Thanks  to  his  hurriedly  improvised  but  ingeniously  ar- 
ranged barricade  his  position  was  one  of  considerable  ad- 
vantage. The  final  result  indeed  of  the  unequal  combat 
could  hardly  be  in  doubt,  but  Hercules  was  determined  to 
postpone  that  result  for  as  long  a  time  and  by  as  stubborn 
a  resistance  as  possible. 

When  the  assailants  reached  the  summit  of  the  Dragon's 
Head  they  soon  found  that  they  were  not  able  to  take 
Hercules'  position  by  immediate  storm.  From  behind  his 
leafy  palisade  the  rapier  of  Hercules  and  the  dagger,  which 
he  used  like  a  short  sword,  encountered  their  blades  with 
bewildering  rapidity  and  precision.  He  seemed  to  antici- 
pate every  motion  of  his  adversaries  and  to  baffle  the 
united  attack  with  incomparable  strength  and  skill.  In 
what  seemed  no  more  than  a  moment  Clarenda,  watching 
wide-eyed  in  fascination,  saw  two  of  the  attackers  fall 
back  wounded  from  the  fray,  while  the  sword  of  a  third, 
twisted  from  his  grasp,  went  hurtling  through  the  air  into 
the  gap  between  the  Head  and  the  Hump.  Temporarily 
foiled  by  the  flame  of  Hercules'  play  the  other  three  fell 
back  a  little  until,  at  a  word  from  my  lord,  they  were 
reinforced  by  three  others,  when  the  attack  was  vehemently 
renewed. 

Then  suddenly  something  happened  so  unexpected  as 
to  arrest  the  attention  of  all  those  that  took  part  that 
day  in  the  squabble  outside  Mountdragon.  There  came  a 
whirring  sound  and  a  creaking  of  chains,  and  the  draw- 
bridge of  the  ancient  keep  began  slowly  to  slip  from  its 
moorings  and  to  reach  out  like  an  arm  over  the  gap  between 
the  Dragon's  Hump  and  the  Dragon's  Head.  Clarenda 
heard  and  saw  and  wondered  as  the  chained  timber  slowly 
descended.  The  antagonists  of  Hercules,  both  those  that 
were  actively  pressing  him,  and  those  that  ranged  on  horse- 
back with  my  lord,  heard  and  saw  and  wondered.  Hercules, 
with  his  sword  and  dagger  alert,  heard  and  wondered,  but 
could  not  spare  a  second  for  a  glimpse  over  his  shoulder 


IN  THE  TOILS  309 

to  see.  The  question  to  all  was  what  would  happen  when 
the  unseen  agent  had  done  his  work  and  the  drawbridge 
was  lowered.  Would,  the  followers  of  my  lord  asked 
themselves,  the  man  they  were  tracking  be  afforded  a 
further  chance  of  refuge  for  a  time  within  the  sullen  walls 
of  Mountdragon?  Hercules  only  asked  himself  who,  in 
the  devil's  name,  could  be  in  Mountdragon  at  that  moment, 
and  why  he  busied  himself  with  fiddling  at  the  drawbridge. 
Clarenda  almost  found  herself  wishing  that  the  worker  of 
the  drawbridge  might  prove  a  friend  to  her  enemy. 

Whoever  the  person  was  that  was  lowering  the  draw- 
bridge, he  was  patently  working  in  a  desperate  hurry,  for 
the  bridge  descended  jerkily,  striking  at  space.  For  some 
strained  moments  it  seemed  to  the  spectators  as  if  it  would 
never  link  the  Dragon's  Hump  with  the  Dragon's  Head, 
but  remain  for  ever  poised  in  air.  Then,  with  a  violent 
thud,  its  bow  struck  the  platform  that  waited  to  receive  it, 
and  on  that  instant  a  man  dashed  from  forth  the  gateway 
who  bore  in  his  arms  what  seemed  to  be  a  mass  of  drapery. 
He  raced  along  the  bridge  at  headlong  speed  and  as  he 
raced  the  assailants,  not  knowing  what  the  meaning  of  this 
new  event  might  be,  pressed  hard  upon  Hercules  and  left 
him  no  moment  of  leisure  in  which  to  look  behind  him. 
Through  all  the  tumult  of  the  conflict  Hercules  fancied 
himself  befriended,  saw  the  chance  of  a  dash  into  the  castle 
and  a  lifting  of  the  bridge  before  his  adversaries  could 
come  in  upon  him.  Those  same  adversaries  had  no  hint 
of  what  was  happening,  but  they  realised  the  possibility  of 
aid  to  their  quarry  and  they  drove  hard  to  prevent  it. 
Clarenda,  watching  with  clasped  hands,  saw  the  newcomer 
dart  across  the  bridge  and  had  barely  time  to  recognise 
Master  Sandys  before  he,  with  a  swift  swirl  of  the  drapery 
he  carried,  engulfed  the  head  and  body  of  Hercules  and 
brought  him  helpless  to  the  ground. 


CHAPTER   XLI 

A  COURT  OF  JUSTICE 

HERCULES  sat  as  a  prisoner  in  that  very  room  of 
state  which  he  had  allotted  to  Clarenda  during  the 
period  when  she  was  in  his  power.  Nothing  was  changed 
in  the  room ;  everything  was  changed  in  his  fortunes.  A 
day  earlier  he  had  dreamed  of  the  freedom  of  the  wide 
seas,  of  the  foundation  in  some  rich  and  distant  land  of  a 
dominion  worthy  the  sovereignty  of  the  woman  he  loved. 
And  now  his  dreams  were  turned  to  grey  dust.  He  had 
played  a  wild  hazard  in  the  confidence  of  winning,  and 
while  he  was  still  in  the  top  of  that  confidence  he  had  lost 
the  game. 

Such  confused  thoughts  as  struggled  in  his  mind,  shaping 
themselves  thus,  were  suddenly  dissipated  by  the  sound 
of  the  turning  of  a  key.  As  he  lifted  his  head  the  great 
door  swung  slowly  open  and  Clarenda  entered  the  room. 
While  Hercules  rose  to  his  feet  Clarenda  bade  the  soldier 
on  guard  close  it  behind  her  and  the  man  and  woman  were 
left  alone. 

"Have  you  taken  over  the  command  of  Mountdragon  ?" 
Hercules  questioned  her  with  a  drolling  smile,  as  if  little 
of  moment  had  happened  since  their  last  parting. 

Clarenda  answered,  white-faced  and  tight-lipped. 

"By  the  courtesy  of  my  lord  of  Godalming,  who  holds 
the  place,  I  come  and  go  as  I  please." 

"I  am  glad  that  it  has  proved  your  pleasure  to  pay  me  a 
visit,"  Hercules  said  lightly.  "Will  you  not  be  seated?" 

Clarenda  shook  her  head.  Plainly  she  had  come  with 
something  to  say  and  was  seeking  her  words.  Hercules 
made  a  polite  gesture  intimating  that  he  waited  upon  her 
will. 

"Do  you  know,"  Clarenda  asked,  "why  you  are  held 
prisoner  in  this  room?" 

310 


A  COURT  OF  JUSTICE  311 

"I  assume,"  Hercules  answered  tranquilly,  "that  I  am 
set  here  because  it  is  the  best  room  in  the  castle." 

Clarenda  laughed  at  him. 

"You  are  confined  here  to  meet  my  pleasure  and  to  feed 
my  revenge.  This  is  the  room  in  which  you  have  held  me 
prisoner  for  so  many  hideous  days.  Now  you  are  its 
prisoner  in  your  turn  and  can  savour  its  charm  at  your 
leisure." 

"It  is  a  very  agreeable  room,"  Hercules  observed,  looking 
about  him  with  an  air  of  nonchalance,  as  if  he  had  never 
before  noted  the  apartment  with  any  care,  "and  has,  as  I 
observe,  a  very  salubrious  outlook.  It  was  generous  of 
you,  lady,  to  surrender  its  comforts  to  me." 

"I  surrendered  it  to  you,"  Clarenda  said  coldly,  "that  it 
might  fret  you  with  its  reminder  of  what  you  had  sought 
to  do  and  failed  to  do.  You  are  caught  in  your  own  trap, 
and  I  thank  God  for  the  capture." 

Hercules  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  have  seen  tables  turned  before  now,"  he  averred,  "and 
am  in  no  wise  discomfited  to  find  myself  in  such  case.  But 
I  take  what  comes." 

"You  are  indeed  a  philosopher,"  Clarenda  said,  with 
disdain. 

Hercules  only  smiled. 

"Yes,"  he  said  again,  "I  take  what  comes.  I  played  for 
what  seemed  to  me  the  greatest  prize  in  the  world.  If  I 
had  won,  as  I  thought  I  should  win,  I  should  have  been 
happy.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  because  I  did  not  win 
I  am  therefore  unhappy.  If  you  were  a  man,  or  another 
kind  of  maid,  you  would  understand  that  there  are  some 
stakes  so  well  worth  the  playing  for  that  it  is  better  to 
play  and  lose  than  not  to  play  and  look  on." 

"You  are  easily  pleased,"  Clarenda  sneered.  "I  am  not 
so  easy  to  pleasure  but  I  delight  in  this  hour.  You  have 
shamed  my  maidenhood  by  your  cruelty.  Where  is  your 
manhood  at  this  hour?  You  are  beneath  my  feet,  my 
tyrant.  You  are  behind  my  bars,  my  gaoler.  All  that  you 
were  to  me  that  made  me  hate  you,  I  can  now  be  to 
you." 

Hercules  shook  his  head. 

"I  grieve  to  gainsay  so  fair  a  lady,  but  you  cannot  make 


312  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

me  hate  you.  So  long  as  I  live  and  breathe  I  shall  persist 
to  love  you." 

Clarenda's  face  blazed. 

"You  have  strange  ways  for  a  lover,"  she  cried,  "and  I 
am  glad  to  pay  you  out  for  them.  Heaven  has  caught  you 
in  its  net,  as  Heaven  in  the  end  catches  all  sinners,  but  I 
scarce  believe  that  even  Heaven  can  punish  you  enough." 

"Since  I  have  lost  you,"  Hercules  replied,  "I  have  noth- 
ing left  to  lose  that  is  worth  a  sigh.  If  you  really  desire 
further  speech  with  me  shall  we  talk  of  something  else? 
Our  quarrel  is  at  an  end.  May  we  not  let  it  be  buried?" 

Clarenda  made  as  if  to  speak,  but  before  she  could  utter 
a  word  her  purpose  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Sir 
Batty,  who  addressed  himself  instantly  to  Mistress  Constant 
without  taking  any  notice  of  the  presence  of  the  prisoner. 

"Sweet  Mistress  Clarenda,"  he  began,  "it  is  the  present 
intention  of  my  lord  Godalming  to  examine  the  felon  in  this 
place  and  at  this  hour.  He  bids  me  say  that  he  would 
be  glad  if  you  could  bring  yourself  to  be  present  at  the 
inquiry  and  to  give  your  evidence  against  the  villain." 

"After  I  have  endured  so  much,"  Clarenda  answered, 
"it  can  cost  me  but  a  little  pang  to  tell  the  tale  of  my 
sorrows." 

"I  applaud  your  courage,"  protested  Sir  Batty,  with 
enthusiasm,  "as  all  the  world  would  applaud  did  it  but 
know  of  the  fortitude  with  which  you  have  endured  your 
wrongs." 

He  seemed  to  have  it  in  his  mind  to  dilate  upon  this 
theme  but  his  eloquence  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of 
Lord  Godalming,  who  entered  the  room  accompanied  by 
his  secretaries  and  a  number  of  the  gentlemen  of  his 
retinue,  among  whom  were  included  Spencer  Winwood, 
Jack  Willoughby,  Philemon  Minster  and  Jock  Holiday. 
Hercules  saluted  my  lord,  who  acknowledged  the  tribute 
with  a  grave  inclination.  Then  my  lord  advanced  to  Clar- 
enda and,  after  making  her  a  profound  bow,  took  her  by 
the  hand  and  leading  her  to  a  chair,  begged  her  to  be  seated. 
He  placed  himself  at  the  headship  of  the  table,  with  his 
secretaries  on  either  side  of  him,  and  the  other  gentlemen 
ranged  themselves  as  they  could  about  the  room.  Next 
my  lord  bade  Hercules,  who  was  still  standing,  to  be  seated. 


A  COURT  OF  JUSTICE  313 

Then,  after  a  few  whispered  words  with  his  immediate 
neighbours,  he  looked  with  sympathy  at  Clarenda  and  with 
sternness  upon  Hercules  and  began  to  speak. 

"I  am  here,"  said  my  lord,  with  a  very  judicial  air,  "to 
make  enquiry  into  this  strange  business,  which  touches 
so  nearly  not  merely  my  own  honour,  but  the  observance 
of  the  Queen's  peace,  and  the  due  decorum  of  the  realm. 
As  I  am  permitted  to  sit  here  as  the  representative  of  our 
Sovereign  Lady,  I  must  therefore  ask  you,  Mistress  Con- 
stant, to  say  what  you  have  to  say  against  this  fellow  in 
apprehension." 

"My  lord,"  Clarenda  said,  as  she  rose  to  her  feet,  "with- 
out a  doubt  you  have  heard  the  bare  outline  of  this  man's 
offence  against  me.  I  will  give  you  the  details  as  quickly 
as  may  be,  for  the  tale  is  one  that  it  irks  me  to  tell.  Master 
Flood  and  I  became  acquainted  over  the  matter  of  a  house. 
I  had  a  mind  to  lease  from  him  the  land-ship  he  built 
himself  and  he  agreed  on  condition  that  he  might  visit 
me  there  daily  for  the  space  of  an  hour.  Anon  Master 
Flood  took  it  into  his  head  that  he  loved  me  and  would  have 
me  for  his  wife.  When  I  refused  his  v^ain  proposal  he  bore 
me  by  force  to  this  his  castle  and  vowed  he  would  keep  me 
here  until  I  consented.  I  must  admit  that  I  was  treated 
with  all  respect,  but  no  one  could  ever  tell  what  I  suffered  in 
my  spirit  at  the  shame  and  humiliation  of  this  detention." 

My  lord  nodded  gravely  as  she  finished  speaking,  and  for 
a  moment  there  was  silence  in  the  room.  Then  he  spoke. 

"And  you  never,"  he  more  affirmed  than  questioned, 
"gave  Master  Flood  the  least  encouragement  in  his  wooing, 
or  reason  to  think  that  his  offer  might  be  acceptable  to 
you?" 

"Never,  never,"  shrilled  Clarenda,  and  then  her  glance 
was  caught  and  held  by  the  level  gaze  from  Hercules'  sea- 
coloured  eyes,  and  for  a  moment  she  dwindled  into  silence. 
"If  he  mistook,"  she  resumed,  in  a  small  voice,  "what  to  us 
of  the  Court  passes  but  for  usual  politeness,  was  that  my 
fault?" 

A  murmur  of  approval  arose  from  Sir  Batty  and  Mr. 
Winwood,  but  my  lord  made  no  comment. 

"Have  you  anything  to  ask  Mistress  Constant?"  he  de- 
manded of  Hercules.  Hercules  shook  his  head. 


314  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"All  she  has  said  is  true,"  he  answered  quietly. 

Clarenda  stood  with  lowered  eyes,  and  asked  herself  if 
she  should  mention  the  pastoral  episode,  when  she  and  her 
town  friends  had  made  game  of  Hercules,  but  even  as  she 
debated  my  lord  thanked  her  gravely  and  entreated  her  to 
seat  herself.  She  sank  into  her  chair  and  was  silent. 

After  Clarenda  had  spoken  the  others  in  turn  delivered 
themselves  in  characteristic  fashion  of  such  evidence  as 
they  had  to  offer.  Mr.  Winwood  told  the  little  he  knew  of 
the  business  with  brevity  and  directness,  relieved  by  a 
polite  irony.  Sir  Batty,  under  cover  of  a  simulated  warmth, 
elaborated  and  emphasised  every  point  against  the  prisoner 
that  cunning  could  advance  and  rhetoric  elaborate.  Phile- 
mon Minster  was  almost  in  tears  as  he  alternated  plain 
statement  of  fact  with  pathetic  protestations  of  his  former 
love  and  admiration  of  Hercules. 

When  he  had  done  my  lord  looked  slowly  round. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  said,  "that  we  have  all  the  evidence 
that  is  necessary,  and  any  more  accounts  would  but  be 
needless  iteration.  I  will  therefore 

But  here  he  was  interrupted  by  Mr.  Willoughby,  who  rose 
to  his  feet. 

"If  it  please  you,  my  lord,"  he  said,  with  slowly  redden- 
ing ears,  as  he  realised  that  the  whole  roomful  of  people 
were  looking  at  him  enquiringly,  "I  have  something  to  say 
that  I  think  should  be  said.  There  was  a  matter  of  a  joke 
we  played  off  on  Master  Flood — Sir  Batty  Sellars,  Mr. 
Winwood  and  I — and  I  hold  that  we  did  him  a  wrong." 

He  caught  Sir  Batty's  eye  as  he  spoke,  dark  with  an  ex- 
pression of  anger  and  menace,  but  giving  him  look  for 
look,  he  proceeded  to  tell  of  the  jesting  trick  that  had  been 
played  upon  Hercules,  and  he  spoke  of  it  with  a  manly 
regret.  He  told,  too,  of  the  duel  that  had  followed  it  and 
of  the  triumph  of  Hercules  therein.  Finally  he  made  bold 
to  assert  his  belief  that,  in  the  face  of  all  seeming,  the 
prisoner  was  an  honourable  man  and  must,  however  strange 
the  assumption  seemed,  have  believed  himself  to  be  acting 
aright. 

None  of  the  witnesses  had  much  to  say  and  none  of  them 
took  a  long  time  in  the  saying  it.  All  their  stories  agreed 
inevitably  as  to  the  main  issue  and  it  was  plain  to  all 


A  COURT  OF  JUSTICE  315 

present  that  my  lord  of  Godalming  had,  as  far  as  the  facts 
were  concerned,  no  very  complicated  problem  placed  be- 
fore him.  He  listened  to  the  speakers  with  an  immovable 
face.  When  they  had  made  an  end  of  their  evidence  he 
turned  to  Hercules  and  addressed  him  courteously. 

"Captain  Flood,"  he  said,  "you  have  heard  the  tale  of 
this  lady,  and  you  have  likewise  heard  the  testimony  of 
these  gentlemen  here  present,  which  in  all  pertinence  sup- 
ports her  statement.  It  remains  for  me  to  ask  you — since  I 
take  it  for  granted  that  you  will  not  deny  the  verity  of  the 
charge  against  you — certain  essential  questions.  In  the 
first  place,  why  did  you,  who  have  an  honourable  record, 
and  can  boast  yourself  an  Armada-man,  bring  shame  upon 
yourself  by  the  abduction  of  a  pure  and  well-born  maid  ? 
You  did  this  thing  not  only  against  her  will,  but  in  the 
full  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  she  was,  of  her  own  free 
consent,  betrothed  in  marriage  to  another  man.  Further, 
why  did  you  persistently  deny  the  lady's  repeated  demands 
for  freedom?  Finally,  why  did  you  suffer  your  madness 
to  carry  you  into  disloyal  defiance  of  the  Queen's  sovereign 
authority  as  represented  by  me  that  am  her  deputy  here? 
If  you  honestly  think  that  there  is  anything  to  be  said  for 
you  and  for  the  course  of  your  conduct  in  this  unhappy 
matter,  you  are  now  free  to  speak  your  mind." 

Hercules  rose,  saluted  my  lord  with  a  courtesy  as 
punctilious  as  his  own,  and  answered  with  a  clear-voiced 
composure. 

"I  think  there  is  much  to  be  said  for  me  and,  with  your 
lordship's  good  favour,  I  purpose  to  say  it.  But,  though 
there  is  much  to  be  said,  it  need  take  no  great  space  of  time 
in  the  saying.  I  am  charged,  and  rightly  charged,  with 
having  carried  Mistress  Constant  against  her  will  to  this 
my  castle  of  Mountdragon,  and  of  harbouring  her  here, 
also  against  her  will.  For  my  defence,  in  the  first  place,  I 
ask  of  you  no  more  than  to  regard  the  lady.  Who  would 
not  risk  life,  fortune,  all  things  save  honour,  for  the  sake  of 
so  wonderful  a  woman?" 

Here  inevitably  every  man  present,  save  only  my  lord, 
turned  involuntarily  to  look  at  Clarenda  as  if  they  had 
never  seen  her  before,  while  Clarenda,  rose-red,  surveyed 
the  table-cloth  as  if  it  were  the  very  map  of  destiny.  Only 


316  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

my  lord  continued  his  steadfast  gaze  upon  the  face  of  the 
menaced  man.  Hercules  continued: 

"I  can  only  plead  in  extenuation  of  what  you  choose  to 
call  an  offence,  that  in  the  high  fire  of  my  vanity  I  believed 
this  rare  maiden  eyed  me  with  favour.  In  all  honesty  I 
believed  she  was  mine  in  all  but  the  confessing  and  that, 
when  it  came  to  the  test  which  my  boldness  inspired,  she 
would  admit  as  much." 

Hercules  paused  a  moment,  as  if  to  gather  the  loose 
thoughts  of  his  argument.  No  one  spoke.  Sir  Batty  aired 
a  sneer.  Philemon  sighed.  Mr.  Win  wood  stifled  a  yawn. 
Mr.  Willoughby  grunted.  Jock  Holiday  sniffed.  Clarenda 
still  stared,  with  crimson  cheeks,  at  the  green  cloth  as  if 
it  were  a  stream  and  she  Narcissa.  My  lord  surveyed 
Hercules  with  the  same  meditative  look. 

"I  do  not,"  Hercules  went  on,  "plead  in  extenuation  of 
my  case  that  Mistress  Constant  has,  as  she  herself  has 
told  you,  been  treated  during  her  enforced  abiding  within 
these  walls  with  all  civility  and  discretion.  As  I  esteem 
myself  to  be  a  man  of  honour  I  protest  that  she  would  have 
been  so  treated  had  she  remained  within  my  custody  until 
we  both  were  old  and  grey." 

Sir  Batty  whispered  an  innuendo  into  the  ear  of  Mr. 
Winwood,  who  laughed  a  baby  laugh  behind  lifted  hand. 

"The  main  of  my  defence,"  Hercules  continued,  "is  to  be 
summed  in  no  more  than  four  words,  'I  loved  the  lady.' 
She  seemed  to  me,  and  she  seems  to  me,  to  be  worth  the 
world  to  a  man  like  me,  who  understands  her  and  is  fit  to 
be  her  mate." 

The  glow  on  Clarenda's  cheeks  deepened,  but  none  could 
see  her  eyes  to  know  if  they  showed  anger.  Sir  Batty 
frowned  the  rage  he  might  not  voice.  My  lord  remained 
unmoved. 

"I  am  not  such  a  fool,"  Hercules  continued,  "as  to 
assert  that  because  I  chance  to  love  a  woman,  that  woman 
is  bound  to  take  me  at  my  own  value  and  to  love  me  in 
return.  But  though  the  term  of  my  friendship  with  this 
lady  was  brief  I  had,  without  immodesty,  some  cause  to 
believe  that  the  passion  she  inspired  was  well  understood, 
was  not  resented,  was  indeed  welcomed." 

Sir  Batty  struck  the  table  angrily  with  his  fist. 


A  COURT  OF  JUSTICE  317 

"My  lord,"  he  cried,  "are  we  to  sit  here  and  listen  to 
this  fellow's  insolent  love-talk  in  the  presence  of  the  lady 
he  has  wronged?" 

"I  have  given  Master  Flood  permission  to  speak  in  his 
own  defence,"  Lord  Godalming  replied  coldly.  "It  is  for 
him  to  choose  the  manner  of  his  defence,  and  it  is  for  me 
to  decide  when  and  if  he  overpasses  the  limit  of  his  right. 
You,  Sir  Batty,  are  free,  if  it  so  please  you,  to  withdraw, 
but  if  you  choose  to  remain  I  must  ask  you  to  keep  silence. 
Mistress  Constant,  of  course,  can  go  or  stay  as  she  wills." 

Sir  Batty 's  frown  darkened  to  a  scowl,  but  he  did  not 
venture  to  speak  and  he  kept  his  seat.  Clarenda  made  no 
move.  Hercules  inclined  his  head  in  recognition  of  my 
lord's  words  and  continued : 

"Circumstances  arose  which  forced  me  to  put  into  words 
the  passion  I  cherished,  and  to  ask  her  for  the  hand  which 
I  believed  would  be  given  to  me.  I  then  learned,  for  the 
first  time,  that  Mistress  Constant  was  betrothed  to  your 
lordship.  No  doubt  Mistress  Constant  took  it  for  granted 
that  I  knew  of  this  betrothal.  But  I  had  been  long  away 
from  England ;  I  had  scanty  acquaintance  with  Court  news 
and  I  did  not  know  that  she  was  in  any  way  bound  to 
another  man." 

Clarenda  lifted  her  head  for  a  moment  and  made  as  if 
she  wished  to  speak,  but  she  seemed  to  change  her  mind 
and  resumed  her  former  attitude. 

"If  I  had  known  of  the  betrothal,"  Hercules  went  on, 
"I  should  not  have  paid  court  to  Mistress  Constant,  how- 
ever unfitted  to  her  youth  the  proposed  alliance  might  have 
seemed  to  me.  But  I  did  not  know  of  it,  and  the  tidings 
took  me  unawares  at  a  moment  when  I  made  bold  to  be- 
lieve that  she  and  I  had  exchanged  our  hearts." 

Hercules  paused  for  a  moment  as  if  he  thought  it  pos- 
sible that  my  lord  might  choose  to  speak,  but  my  lord  kept 
silence  and  Hercules  went  on: 

"It  did  not  then  seem  to  me,  and  it  does  not  now  seem 
to  me,  that  you,  of  whom  I  knew  nothing  but  the  greatness 
of  your  name  and  the  greatness  of  your  age,  had  the  right 
to  come  between  my  prime  and  the  youth  of  this  maid. 
We  were  English  man  and  English  woman,  comely  and 
lusty,  fit  to  carry  on  the  English  race.  I  heard  of  you  too 


3i8  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

late,  my  lord;  I  loved  and  hoped  that  I  was  loved.  I  be- 
lieved that  in  bearing  away  the  lady  I  was  but  bearing 
away  one  who  was  in  her  heart  my  own  from  a  most  unfit 
betrothal.  Thereafter,  though  it  seems  that  I  erred  in  my 
judgment,  I  was  bound  to  stand  by  it  and  I  have  stood  by 
it,  hoping  and  hoping,  to  this  end.  I  have  no  more  to  say. 
I  am  too  unlearned  in  the  juggles  of  the  law  to  know  what 
right  you  have  to  deal  thus  summarily  with  me,  but  I 
recognise  your  might,  and  so  an  end." 

There  was  a  little  silence  as  Hercules  ceased  to  speak 
and  resumed  his  seat.  Then  my  lord  rose  and  spoke  in 
a  cold  set  tone. 

"You  have  put  your  case  plainly  and  boldly;  you  have 
striven  to  defend  what  was  not  to  be  defended.  You 
have  courted  the  doom  you  deserve.  If  you  challenge  my 
right  to  judge  you,  be  assured  that  I  am  prepared  to  answer 
to  her  Majesty  for  my  action  in  this  matter.  You  must 
have  known  what  the  punishment  for  such  an  act  would  be. 
This  lady" — and  he  pointed  to  Clarenda — "has  demanded 
your  punishment  at  my  hands.  Is  not  this  so,  Mistress 
Constant  ?" 

Clarenda  raised  her  eyes  heavily  and  looked  at  Hercules. 

"Yes,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "it  is  quite  right  that  he 
should  be  punished." 

"And  in  any  case,"  continued  my  lord,  "the  Queen's 
justice  must  proceed.  Master  Flood,  your  punishment  will 
be  death." 

Clarenda  rose  to  her  feet  with  a  little  cry. 

"My  lord,"  she  said  hurriedly,  "I  do  not  ask  for  such  a 
punishment  as  that.  I  do  not  ask  that  he  should  die." 

Lord  Godalming  rose  also. 

"That  is  the  judgment,  mistress,"  he  said  weightily,  and 
turning  to  Hercules,  added:  "I  give  you  an  hour  in  which 
to  prepare  for  your  fate.  Come,  mistress  and  sirs,  let  us 
leave  this  felon  to  his  thoughts." 

He  took  Clarenda's  hand  and  led  her  to  the  door.  They 
passed  near  to  the  condemned  man  as  they  went,  but 
Clarenda's  head  was  sunk  upon  her  bosom,  and  Hercules 
could  only  see  that  the  hue  of  her  cheek  that  was  wont  to 
be  so  fair  and  fresh,  was  gone  to  a  sickly  pallor. 

As  the  company  passed  out  of  the  room,  Philemon  sought 


A  COURT  OF  JUSTICE  319 

and  obtained  from  Lord  Goclalming  permission  to  say  fare- 
well to  his  friend.  He  advanced  towards  Hercules  and 
extended  a  hand  which  Hercules  did  not  refuse. 

"It  was  my  doing  that  you  were  tried  in  this  room,"  he 
said  rapidly,  in  a  low  voice.  "I  urged  its  aptness,  on  my  lord, 
as  being  the  room  in  which  Mistress  Constant  was  im- 
prisoned. I  was  forced  by  my  conscience  to  thwart  your 
plans  but  I  would  not  peril  your  life.  In  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  I  will  be  where  you  wot  of  with  a  swift  horse." 

Hercules  said  nothing,  only  regarding  his  friend  with  a 
curious  smile,  and  Philemon,  with  a  haggard  face,  again 
quitted  the  chamber. 

Meanwhile  Lord  Godalming  conducted  Clarenda  to  an 
apartment  which  was  indeed  the  same  that  Hercules  had 
occupied  after  her  arrival. 

"Rest,"  he  said,  in  that  firm  tone  which  Clarenda  recog- 
nised as  a  command,  "until  it  is  time  to  travel  to  King's 
Welcome.  The  gentlemen  from  Willoughby  Homing  are 
riding  thither  at  once  to  convey  the  good  news  of  your 
safety  to  my  lady  Gylford." 

Clarenda  listened  to  him  dully.  My  lord  moved  towards 
the  door  and  then  turned  to  her  again. 

"It  will,  I  am  sure,  please  you,"  he  said,  "to  know  that 
I  have  resolved  to  mete  out  no  punishment  to  any  of  Master 
Flood's  followers.  They  were  simple  seamen  who  did 
but  do  his  bidding  and  are  scarce  to  be  blamed." 

My  lord  quitted  the  room,  but  the  door  had  not  re- 
mained closed  for  many  seconds  before  it  opened  cau- 
tiously again,  and  Sir  Batty  glided  swiftly  into  the  room. 

"Exquisite  lady,"  he  said  in  a  clear  whisper,  "I  kiss  your 
hand.  I  wish  you  joy.  We  have  won  the  game.  That 
rascal  shall  hang.  Marry  your  old  lord,  and  thereafter  I 
shall  have  much  to  say  to  you  that  I  hope  may  find 
favour." 

Clarenda  looked  at  him  with  weary  eyes.  He  was  ex- 
cited beyond  his  wont  and  showed  himself  plainer  than 
he  knew. 

"Please  leave  me,"  she  murmured,  and  Sir  Batty,  who 
was  not  at  all  wishful  to  be  found  there  by  my  lord,  quitted 
the  room  and  made  haste  to  join  his  companions  for  King's 
Welcome. 


320  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

After  Sir  Batty  had  departed  Clarenda  sat  very  still  for  a 
while  in  a  great  gravity  of  thought.  Almost  it  seemed  to 
her — though  her  thoughts  came  and  went  confusedly  with- 
out enduring  form  or  precision — that  in  the  late  convul- 
sions of  her  life  her  nature  had  been  changed  and  mended. 
As  she  sat  and  mused  she  seemed  to  see  the  world  clearer, 
and  the  people  in  it,  the  people  that  she  knew.  There  was 
Sir  Batty  that  had  been  her  hero.  Now  she  saw  him  as  a 
poor  mean  thing  that  was  patiently  waiting  for  an  old 
man's  widow,  and  was  ready  in  treachery  to  kill  a  better 
man  than  himself.  A  better  man  than  himself.  The  words 
as  she  framed  them  sent  her  thoughts  newly  afield.  The 
figure  of  Hercules  appeared  to  her  fancy  well  nigh  as 
insistently  as  if  he  were  indeed  in  the  room.  She  re- 
called his  noble  bearing  in  that  grim  parody  of  a  trial,  she 
saw  him  again,  standing  one  against  a  multitude  on  the 
summit  of  the  Dragon's  Head;  she  remembered  his 
courtesy  and  patience  as  her  gaoler;  she  thought  again  of 
the  sweetness  and  simplicity  of  his  early  wooing.  Slowly 
in  the  crucible  of  her  mind,  the  lead  of  her  hatred  was 
transmuted  into  the  gold  of  nobler  thoughts.  She  rose  from 
her  reflections  with  a  new  purpose  in  her  heart. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

THE    SECRET    WAY 

HERCULES  sat  for  a  little  while  after  the  departure 
of  Philemon  with  his  head  in  his  hands,  brooding 
over  the  events  of  the  day.  He  did  not  find  himself  de- 
jected or  despondent  or  despairing.  He  had  played  a  great 
game  for  a  great  stake,  and  he  had  lost  it,  and  it  seemed  to 
him  only  right  and  natural  that  he  should  pay  up.  It  was  his 
habit  to  take  established  facts  for  granted,  whether  he  wel- 
comed them  or  regretted  them,  and  he  was  never  the  man 
to  rejoice  ignobly  over  success  or  to  lament  ignobly  over 
failure.  So  he  sat  and  thought,  disconnectedly  enough,  of 
the  happenings  in  his  life,  until  his  meditations  were  inter- 
rupted by  the  opening  of  the  door,  and  the  entry  of  Clar- 
enda  made  him  spring  to  his  feet. 

"I  have  to  speak  with  you,"  Clarenda  cried  breathlessly. 
"You  dealt  generously  with  me  in  putting  so  little  blame 
upon  my  caprice  and  my  deceit.  I  should  have  spoken  of 
them  but  I  could  not  with  all  those  present.  But  be  assured 
I  will  tell  my  lord  the  truth,  and  my  lord  will  understand 
and  you  shall  be  saved." 

"Dear  lady,"  said  Hercules,  "I  beg  that  you  will  not 
vex  your  spirit  about  me.  I  could  make  my  escape  at  this 
moment  if  I  chose  to  do  so." 

Clarenda  stared  at  him  in  amazement,  and  then  her 
gaze  travelled  slowly  round  the  great  room  that  had  been 
her  fair  and  hateful  prison. 

"You  could  escape?"  she  asked.  "You  could  escape  from 
this  room?" 

Hercules  nodded. 

"I  could  escape,"  he  assured  her,  "and  you  could  have 
made  to  escape  if  you  had  but  known  what  I  know.  There 
is  a  secret  way  from  this  room  that  leads,  by  a  narrow 
321 


322  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

stairway  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall,  to  a  concealed  door- 
way at  the  back  of  the  castle." 

An  inapt  pang  of  vexation  pricked  Clarenda  as  she  heard 
what  Hercules  said.  It  exasperated  her  to  think  that  in  all 
the  long-  hours  in  which  she  had  chafed  and  raged  at  her 
captivity,  the  way  to  freedom  was  only  barred  by  her  igno- 
rance of  the  secret  way.  But  Hercules'  next  words  banished 
her  chagrin. 

"If  you  had  discovered  the  secret  way,"  he  assured  her, 
"it  would  have  served  you  in  no  wise.  For  the  doorway 
at  the  back  of  the  castle  is  locked,  and  I  carry  the  key  about 
my  person." 

Clarenda  had  forgotten  her  small  chagrin  in  her  joy  at 
the  thought  of  the  open  way  for  him. 

"If  there  be  such  a  way,"  she  entreated,  "use  it  in 
Heaven's  name  and  save  yourself  before  it  be  too  late." 

Hercules  smiled  as  if  Clarenda  had  made  the  best  joke 
in  the  world. 

"I  do  not  make  my  escape,"  he  said,  with  a  flip  of  his 
thumbs  and  forefingers,  "because  I  have  not  made  up  my 
mind  that  I  wish  to  make  my  escape." 

"You  are  in  the  face  of  present  death,"  she  protested, 
"and  you  say  that  you  do  not  want  to  make  your  escape." 

"I  have  been  in  the  face  of  present  death  many  times," 
Hercules  responded  composedly.  "I  was  going  to  say  a 
hundred  times,  but  the  numeration  seemed  at  once  too  large 
and  too  small.  Every  day,  every  hour,  a  man  is  elbowed 
by  death,  but  that  is  the  matter  of  course  and  does  not 
count.  But  I  have  been  in  urgent  peril  of  my  life  a 
good  round  dozen  of  times  at  least  in  the  course  of  my 
travels,  so  I  am  not  unused  to  the  encounter." 

"If  you  have  slipped  his  fingers  so  often,  you  can  slip 
them  once  again,"  Clarenda  urged.  Hercules  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"I  had  my  reasons  then  for  living  if  the  chance  were 
given  me.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  have  such  reason  to-day." 

Clarenda  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked. 

"I  mean,"  Hercules  answered  calmly,  "that,  as  I  take  it, 
life  without  you  would  seem  but  a  mean  and  meagre  busi- 
ness. When  I  made  so  free  with  your  dignity  as  to  carry 


THE  SECRET  WAY  323 

you  here  against  your  will,  I  told  myself  that  I  was  making 
my  major  stake  in  the  game  of  life.  If  I  could  bring  you 
to  take  me  and  make  the  best  of  me,  why  then,  I  had  won 
the  world.  But,  since  it  seems  that  I  have  failed  in  my 
purpose,  I  have  no  great  mind  to  slink  from  the  table  and 
pretend  that  I  cared  little  whether  I  won  or  lost.  I  wanted 
to  win  with  all  my  heart  and  soul.  What,  after  all,  would 
life  be  worth  to  me  now  that  I  have  lost?  A  little  more 
eating  and  drinking;  a  little  more  waking  and  sleeping.  I 
find  it  hard  to  assure  myself  that  I  should  cherish  such 
dregs  of  days." 

Clarenda  nursed  her  chin  in  the  cup  of  her  palm  thought- 
fully. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  will  not  save  your  life?" 

Hercules  smiled  cheerfully. 

"I  have  not  wound  up  my  mind,"  he  said  quietly ;  "but 
I  am  not  for  making  too  much  of  my  life.  I  might  have 
lost  it  time  and  again  before  ere  this.  I  mind  me  that  I 
thought  I  had  lost  it  when  I  climbed  the  side  of  the  Glory 
of  Castile,  and  a  damned  hidalgo  cut  at  me  with  his  hanger. 
But  it  was  I  who  killed  the  hidalgo  and  boarded  the  Glory 
of  Castile,  and  all  that  is  a  long  time  ago." 

"Please,  make  your  escape,"  Clarenda  murmured.  Again 
Hercules  refused. 

"Why  do  you  urge  me?"  Hercules  asked  gravely.  "Be- 
lieve me,  I  should  not  have  cared  to  continue  my  foolish 
living  if  the  Armada  had  won  the  day.  Breath  is  only 
precious  if  we  breathe  in  a  sweet  air.  And  so,  to-day, 
having  staked  my  hope  and  my  soul  on  the  winning  of 
you  and  having  lost  you,  I  begin  to  doubt  whether  I  should 
ever  again  be  on  sufficiently  good  terms  with  existence  to 
consent  to  keep  it  company." 

Clarenda,  who  had  been  watching  him  while  he  spoke 
with  a  curious  wistfulness,  questioned  him. 

"Why  do  you  esteem  me  at  so  great  a  price.  I  am  only 
a  woman,  and  you  have  seen  many  women  ?" 

"You  are  my  woman,"  Hercules  answered  simply.  "To 
every  man,  be  he  profligate  or  puritan,  there  is  one  woman 
who  means  womanhood.  Since  I  cannot  have  you  I  want 
nothing  less,  but  I  take  it  kindly  that  you  found  a  friendly 
thought  for  me." 


324  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

"I  have  found  many  friendly  thoughts  for  you,"  Clar- 
enda  said  slowly,  "and  that  is  why  I  would  have  you  make 
good  your  escape.  The  life  of  a  man  like  you  is  too  good 
to  be  wasted  for  a  woman  like  me." 

Hercules  took  a  few  paces  up  and  down  the  room,  and 
then  came  to  a  halt  in  front  of  Clarenda. 

"Do  not  bely  yourself,"  he  protested.  "You  are  well 
worth  me  if  I  am  well  worth  you.  Tell  me,  if  I  choose 
to  get  away,  can  you  lend  me  the  least  little  shred  of  hope  to 
help  me  about  my  business?" 

Clarenda  looked  at  him  very  steadfastly. 

"You  have  always  proclaimed  yourself  my  lover,"  she 
answered.  "If  you  still  proclaim  yourself  my  lover  you 
will  obey  me  now,  without  asking  anything  of  me." 

Hercules  drew  a  long  breath. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's  silence.  "I  will 
do  as  you  wish.  I  hope  you  may  hear  honest  news  of  me. 
Good-bye." 

Clarenda  placed  her  hands  against  her  face  for  a 
moment,  covering  it  from  his  view.  Then  she  parted  her 
palms  and  looked  at  him  with  a  strange  kindness  in  her 
eyes. 

"If  you  can  make  your  escape  from  this  place,"  she 
said,  "I  will  go  with  you  and  stay  with  you  to  the  end." 

There  was  a  sudden  flame  in  the  man's  eyes  as  he  sprang 
forward  and  seizing  her  hands  in  his  hands,  stared  into 
her  pale  face. 

"You  mean  it!"  he  cried,  with  a  joyousness  that  had  no 
taint  of  triumph  in  it,  held  nothing  but  pure  wonder.  "God 
forgive  me,  but  I  believe  you  mean  it." 

He  was  staring  steadfastly  into  her  face  as  if  uncer- 
tainty sought  assurance  there.  She  assured  him  with  a 
gaze  as  steady  as  his  own. 

"I  mean  it,"  she  answered.  "You  have  won  me,  if  you 
think  me  worth  the  winning  that  have  treated  you  so 
foully." 

Hercules  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  clasped  her  close. 
His  face  was  very  nigh  to  her  face,  but  their  Jips  were  still 
apart. 

"My  dear,"  he  murmured  with  an  unfamiliar  softness 
in  his  voice,  "I  am  the  first  man  in  the  world  this  hour. 


THE  SECRET  WAY  325 

And  if,  God  willing,  we  live  and  do  well,  I  will  do  my 
heart's  endeavour  to  make  you  the  first  woman  in  the  world. 
When  a  man  and  a  woman  love  one  another  they  make  a 
great  kingdom  in  a  little  room.  I  love  you." 

Clarenda  surrendering  her  body  to  the  grip  of  his  great 
arms,  cried  back  at  him  in  a  flame  of  enchanted  passion, 
"I  love  you."  Then  their  mouths  met  for  the  first  time, 
and  while  they  kissed,  all  the  clocks  in  all  the  world  stood 
still,  and  neither  man  nor  maid  could  tell  if  it  were  years 
or  instants  that  wheeled  about  their  rapture. 

But  when  their  lips  sundered  and  with  heads  drawn 
back  they  gazed  each  into  the  other's  face  with  new  joy  and 
knowledge,  Hercules  spoke  again. 

"Wonder  and  glory,"  he  said,  "I  am  in  such  a  hap- 
piness at  this  minute  that  I  would  be  well-nigh  content 
to  die  if  I  were  not  so  crazy  to  live  for  the  sake  of  happi- 
ness yet  to  be.  We  will  get  away  from  this  place.  We  will 
cross  the  seas.  We  will  find  great  love  and  a  great  life 
beyond  the  horizon." 

Clarenda  heard  him  but  dimly,  could  but  guess  im- 
perfectly at  his  meaning,  but  she  accepted  his  words  with 
the  glad  tranquillity  of  a  child.  Whatever  Hercules  said 
Hercules  could  do ;  she  was  very  sure  of  that  to  the  core 
of  her  heart.  He  had  indeed  won  her,  and  she  rejoiced 
to  be  won. 

"Let  us  go,"  she  said,  and  said  no  more,  but  the  sound 
in  her  voice  and  the  look  in  her  eyes  made  Hercules  feel 
as  if  he  were  the  demi-god  whose  name  he  carried. 

"Come,"  he  said.  "This  is  the  way.  Philemon  waits 
with  a  horse." 

He  caught  her  by  the  wrist  and  drew  her,  readily  sur- 
rendering, to  that  corner  of  the  room  where  the  picture 
of  the  Queen  glared  imperially  upon  any  spectator.  Her- 
cules touched  an  obscure  knob  in  the  extravagant  orna- 
mentation of  the  frame  and  pressed  upon  it  heavily.  After 
a  moment  the  great  picture  began  to  move  a  little  from  its 
place  in  the  wall,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  figure  of  Eliza- 
beth were  slowly  advancing  into  the  chamber  to  join  the 
company.  Second  by  second  and  inch  by  inch  the  picture 
moved  forward,  as  a  door  might  open  that  was  propelled 
by  an  unseen  hand.  For  a  moment  Hercules  and  Clarenda, 


326  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

standing  side  by  side,  were  faced  by  a  void  of  darkness  in 
the  wall  of  the  room.  The  next  moment  that  void  of  dark- 
ness was  filled  by  a  human  presence,  and  my  lord  of 
Godalming  entered  the  room  through  the  aperture  of  the 
secret  passage. 


CHAPTER   XLIII 

SENTENCE 

MY  lord  addressed  the  startled  pair  with  a  cold  com- 
posure. 

"I  regret,"  he  said,  "to  take  you  thus  unawares  and  to 
thwart  your  departure.  But  as  an  old  son  of  Devon  I  know 
something  of  its  strongholds  and  I  have  long  been  aware 
that  Mountdragon  has  its  secret  passage.  It  was  therefore 
no  great  surprise  to  me  to  find  but  now  Master  Philemon 
Minster — whose  conduct  in  the  matter  I  do  not  in  the  least 
condemn — waiting  with  a  brace  of  horses  hard  by  the  hid- 
den postern.  Master  Philemon  still  waits  there,  but  he 
waits  in  the  company  of  my  followers,  and  so,  I  fear  me, 
that  your  way  of  departure  is  barred.  I  find  that  I  did 
well  to  act  swiftly,  for  I  have  scarce  been  but  a  pair  of 
minutes  on  the  other  side  of  that  picture,  yet  that  pair  of 
minutes  were  long  enough  to  make  me  believe  that  a  maid 
has  changed  her  mind." 

My  lord  spoke  these  words  as  he  stood  in  the  vacant 
space  in  the  wall  that  was  caused  by  the  removal  of  the 
picture.  Now  my  lord  Godalming  quitted  the  opening  and 
moved  towards  the  man  and  woman. 

As  my  lord  of  Godalming  advanced  slowly  into  the  room, 
so  with  equal  slowness,  Hercules  and  Clarenda,  hand  in 
hand,  gave  ground  before  him.  My  lord  said  no  word  but 
advanced  upon  the  retreating  pair  with  all  the  gravity  of  a 
Rhadamanthus  until  he  had  reached  the  middle  of  the 
chamber.  Then  he  came  to  a  halt  and  turned  a  grave  face 
upon  the  girl. 

"May  I  ask,"  he  said,  "where  Mistress  Constant  is  going 
in  the  company  of  her  enemy?" 

"My  lord "  Hercules  began,  but  the  old  man  faced 

him  with  so  stern  a  frown  that  Hercules  said  no  more. 

"I  will  speak  to  you  by  and  by,"  my  lord  said.  "Pray  do 
327 


328  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

not  interrupt  me  till  I  give  you  your  turn."  Again  he  ad- 
dressed Clarenda. 

"May  I  ask  where  Mistress  Constant  is  going  in  the 
company  of  her  enemy?" 

Clarenda,  startled  and  sick  at  heart,  forced  herself  to 
speak  though  her  voice  sounded  to  her  very  far-away  and 
weak. 

"This  man  is  not  my  enemy.  This  man  is  my  friend. 
This  man  is  my  lover.  I  want  to  go  away  with  him, 
anywhere,  it  matters  not  where,  so  it  be  in  his  com- 
pany." 

"Here  is  a  mighty  change,"  cried  my  lord  in  a  voice  of 
great  surprise.  "I  understood  that  this  man  had  wronged 
you  beyond  all  forgiveness,  that  nothing  but  his  shameful 
death  would  compensate  you  for  your  injury.  Was  not  this 
indeed  so,  or  did  I  dream  it  all  ?" 

Clarenda,  to  her  amazement,  heard,  or  believed  she  heard, 
a  little  quaver  of  mirth  agitate  the  gravity  of  my  lord's  tone ; 
saw,  or  believed  she  saw,  what,  if  she  were  thinking  of  any 
less  august  mortal,  she  would  have  called  a  twinkle  in  my 
lord's  eyes.  The  voice  had  ceased  to  speak,  but  as  she 
looked  again  the  merriment  of  the  twinkle  still  persisted. 
There  could  not  be  the  slightest  doubt  of  it.  My  lord  was 
not  angry;  my  lord  was  amused.  My  lord  was  not  fero- 
cious; my  lord  was  good-humoured.  Wonder  at  this  car- 
riage shook  her  heart  so  that  she  could  scarcely  breathe 
but  stood  there  panting.  Hercules,  bewildered  by  this  sud- 
den shift  of  fortune,  again  essayed  to  speak. 

"Hear  me,  my  lord,"  he  entreated,  but  my  lord  lifted 
his  hand  with  such  a  dignity  of  one  accustomed  to  command 
and  to  be  obeyed  that  even  the  self-reliance  of  Hercules 
gave  way  before  it. 

"I  will  speak  to  you  in  your  turn,"  said  my  lord  quietly, 
"but  for  the  nonce  I  have  to  talk  with  this  maiden." 

Clarenda,  still  to  her  astonishment  reading  into  my  lord's 
speech  a  friendliness  foreign  to  its  drift,  found  a  voice 
to  plead. 

"My  dear  lord,"  she  entreated,  "as  you  have  ever  been 
goodness  itself  to  me,  be  good  again  to-day.  I  love  this  man 
and  I  seek  to  save  his  life.  Forgive  me  for  my  broken 
faith,  pity  me  for  my  unhappy  case.  None  may  command 


SENTENCE  329 

love,  and  my  love  for  this  man  is  greater  by  the  width  of 
the  world  than  my  duty  to  you.  Only  let  him  go  free  and 
you  may  do  with  me  what  you  please " 

She  was  suddenly  silent,  for  Hercules  had  placed  his 
hand,  very  gently  and  tenderly,  upon  her  mouth.  He  ad- 
dressed my  lord  with  an  air  of  courageous  respect. 

"My  lord,  here  we  be,  two  men.  It  is  for  us  to  change 
thoughts  together.  This  lady  has  done  you  no  wrong. 
Rather,  to  my  mind,  you  have  done  her  a  wrong.  Let 
us  go  our  own  road  and  be  happy  in  our  own  way." 

To  Hercules'  surprise  my  lord  gave  him  no  direct  an- 
swer, but,  drawing  a  brace  of  chairs  forward,  motioned  to 
the  man  and  woman  to  seat  themselves  while  he  himself 
solemnly  occupied  a  third.  When  this  was  finished  my  lord 
addressed  the  couple  in  a  voice  of  perfect  amiability. 

"Maid  and  man,"  he  asked,  and  smiled  in  the  asking, 
"will  you  give  me  leave  to  tell  you  a  story  ?" 

Clarenda  and  Hercules  gaped  at  him,  astounded  by  the 
change  in  his  bearing. 

My  lord  crossed  one  leg,  still  shapely  in  its  close  gear, 
over  the  other,  rested  his  clasped  hands  lightly  on  his  knee 
and  looked  at  his  companions  with  a  curious  expression 
in  which  humour,  melancholy  and  tenderness  were  com- 
mingled. 

"Maid  and  man,"  he  began,  "you  must  needs  find  patience 
for  an  old  man's  tale,  whose  purpose  is  to  make  plain  much 
that  must  seem  strange  to  you.  Though  you  are  now  the 
chief  figure  in  our  comedy,  Master  Flood,  yet  so  far  as  my 
actions  and  intentions  were  concerned  you  came  on  the  stage 
belated.  It  is  true  that  I  knew  much  of  you  by  report, 
which  always  proclaimed  you  a  daring  and  able  seaman.  It 
is  true  also  that  I  expected  some  person  unknown  to  make 
an  entry  on  the  scene.  That  the  unknown  should  bear  your 
name  is  a  chance  that  may  well  please  us  all." 

Hercules  listening  to  the  enigmatic  exordium  and  some- 
what at  a  loss  what  to  say,  bowed  his  head  gravely  in 
acknowledgment  of  my  lord's  compliment.  My  lord  re- 
sumed, but  this  time  he  addressed  himself  more  directly  to 
Clarenda. 

"I  dare  wager,"  he  said,  "that  you  have  sometimes  asked 
yourself  why  an  old  body  like  me,  who  was  reputed  to  have 


330  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

much  honour  and  some  little  wisdom,  should  have  made 
you  an  offer  of  marriage." 

Clarenda's  cheeks  coloured  a  little  under  the  old  lord's 
steady  eyes,  but  like  Hercules,  she  kept  her  peace  that  my 
lord  might  say  his  say  uncommented. 

"Admiration  for  your  beauty  would  be  the  sufficient 
justification  for  a  younger  man,"  my  lord  continued,  "and 
I  may  say  in  all  honesty  that  I  admired  your  beauty  very 
highly,  in  spite  of  my  winters,  with  such  untroubled  homage 
as  a  beholder  may  pay  to  a  beautiful  image,  a  beautiful  pic- 
ture or  a  beautiful  flower.  In  my  life  at  Court  I  have  seen 
few  maids  as  fair  as  you ;  only  once  did  I  see  one  who  to  my 
eyes  showed  more  fair,  and  her  you  closely  resembled." 

Clarenda  guessed  the  meaning  of  his  words.  She  had 
heard,  as  all  who  came  to  Court  had  heard,  of  my  lord's 
love-story  and  of  my  lord's  unchanging  fidelity  to  a  dear 
memory.  My  lord  now  slipped  his  hand  into  the  bosom 
of  his  doublet  and  drew  from  thence  a  miniature  in  a 
golden  case  suspended  to  a  golden  chain.  He  liberated  the 
locket  from  the  chain,  opened  it  and  handed  it  to  Clarenda. 
It  contained  a  portrait,  admirably  executed,  of  a  young 
woman  of  great  beauty  who  did  indeed  resemble  Clarenda 
conspicuously  in  features,  hair  and  colouring. 

"Because  of  that  resemblance,"  said  my  lord,  "I  made 
bold  to  note  you  with  a  more  particular  observance  than 
I  should  naturally  have  paid  to  any  of  the  pretty  faces 
that  year  by  year  float  in  and  out  of  the  Queen's  favour. 
Because  of  that  resemblance  I  made  myself  acquainted  with 
your  story,  made  myself  acquainted,  so  far  as  a  man  might 
who  had  some  little  knowledge  of  the  world  and  its  crea- 
tures, with  your  character,  became  aware  of  your  hopes  and 
ambitions,  became  aware  of  your  merits  and  your  failings, 
became  aware  of  your  danger." 

At  the  sound  of  this  last  word  Clarenda's  colour  deep- 
ened, and  her  breath  came  quickly,  for  she  divined  what  my 
lord  would  be  at.  Hercules,  listening,  kept  an  unchanged 
countenance. 

"There  was  a  man  at  Court,"  my  lord  continued,  "who 
believed  himself  to  be  a  miracle  of  cunning  and  craft,  but 
whose  nature  I  could  read  as  easily  as  if  it  were  a  BA-BE 
Book.  A  pattern  of  selfishness,  Italianate  in  all  the  vices 


SENTENCE  331 

that  our  travelled  youths  delight  to  import  from  abroad, 
he  was  one  to  hunt  any  fair  woman  without  mercy,  without 
pity  and  without  remorse.  I  saw  well  who  he  was  then 
a-hunting  and  because  of  this  resemblance" — my  lord  took 
back  the  miniature  from  Clarenda's  trembling  fingers  and 
looked  at  it  reverently — "I  resolved  to  spoil  his  sport." 

In  spite  of  herself  Clarenda  lowered  her  eyes  as  my  lord 
spoke.  She  knew  life  better  now  than  she  had  known  it 
a  few  short  months  ago  and  she  knew  more  of  the  man  my 
lord  had  painted.  My  lord  took  no  notice  of  her  emotion. 

"I  was  resolved  that  you,  headlong  in  your  girlish  vanity 
and  threading  with  unwary  gaiety  the  perils  of  a  Court, 
should  not  be  the  immediate  sacrifice  to  this  woman-eater. 
I  believed  that  your  flighty  carriage  belied  a  better  nature. 
I  resolved  to  remove  you  from  the  Court,  to  place  you  in  a 
careful  safety  till  you  had  some  leisure  to  know  your  own 
mind.  Tell  me,  dear  child,  do  you  think  that  I  did  wrong  in 
bringing  my  old  winter  into  your  budding  spring?" 

Clarenda  shook  her  head. 

"Your  lordship  was  very  thoughtful  for  my  welfare," 
she  answered.  There  was  ambiguity  in  her  voice  because 
there  was  ambiguity  in  her  mind.  She  was  clearly  con- 
scious of  a  great  gratitude  to  my  lord  for  the  pains  he  had 
been  at  to  care  for  her,  for  the  profusion  of  his  generosity ; 
but,  also,  she  was  dimly  conscious  of  a  small  resentment  at 
the  pedagogy  of  the  procedure,  at  the  thought  that  after  all 
she  had  been  no  more  than  a  puppet  whose  strings  were 
worked  by  exalted  fingers. 

It  may  well  be  that  my  lord  in  his  wisdom  and  experience 
divined  enough  of  her  mind  to  discern  its  muted  discon- 
tent. He  turned  his  face  to  Hercules  and  its  steadiness  was 
tempered  by  the  wistfulness  of  appeal. 

"You,  sir,"  he  challenged,  "you  who  have  known  men 
and  cities  like  Ulysses  of  old,  do  you  hold  that  I  did  well 
or  ill  in  this  business?" 

"Well,  by  God,"  Hercules  answered,  with  an  emphatic 
slap  of  hand  on  thigh.  "It  were  a  strange  thing  if  you 
who  aided  an  old  woman  so  wisely  through  all  these  years, 
could  not  help  a  young  woman  in  her  first  months  of  ad- 
venture." 

"I  am  glad  of  your  approval,"  said  my  lord,  with  a  faint 


332  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

smile,  "though  I  confess  that  I  find  myself  at  a  loss  to 
understand  your  reference  to  an  old  woman,  seeing  that  the 
lady  I  have  served  all  my  life  has  been  graced  by  Heaven 
with  the  gift  of  eternal  youth." 

He  turned  his  regard  upon  Clarenda  again  and  his  voice 
was  even  gentler  and  friendlier  than  before. 

"It  is  not  more  than  right  that  you  should  know  now, 
dear  child,  that  I  had  at  no  time  any  thought  of  claiming 
the  fulfilment  of  your  promise  to  me.  If  I  had  the  temerity 
to  test  your  temper,  I  also  made  bold,  for  a  time,  to  defend 
you.  It  was  my  intention  at  the  fitting  time  to  restore 
your  freedom,  and  to  solicit  from  your  family  the  privilege 
of  enriching  you  with  such  a  dower  as  would  leave  you 
liberty  and  leisure  to  choose  a  fitting  mate.  I  had  indeed 
believed  that  I  should  stand  by  to  aid  you  in  your  choice, 
but  it  seems  that  you  have  chosen  without  my  help,  and  as 
Heaven  is  my  witness  I  protest  that  you  have  chosen  well." 

"I  am  quite  of  your  lordship's  mind,"  said  Clarenda  and 
extended  a  hand  to  Hercules,  who  caught  it  and  covered  it 
in  his  own.  "And  I  am  grateful,  with  all  that  is  good  in  my 
heart,  for  all  the  good  that  has  come  to  me  through  you, 
both  the  good  which  you  intended,  and  the  good  of  which 
you  had  no  thought.  And  I  pray  God  to  reward  you  for 
your  exceeding  commiseration  and  generosity." 

My  lord,  inclining,  took  the  girl's  free  hand  and  lifted  it 
to  his  lips. 

"God  has  rewarded  me,"  he  asserted,  "in  permitting  me  to 
pay  some  part  of  the  debt  I  owed  to  one  whose  happiness  I 
hoped  to  make  the  ceaseless  care  of  my  life.  That  hope 
passed  like  a  dream,  with  my  youth,  but  I  think  that  the 
hope  of  my  old  age  may  find  a  fairer  fulfilment." 

For  a  few  moments  my  lord  kept  silence,  looking  at  the 
pair  who  sat  before  him  with  clasped  hands,  as  if  he  were 
fain  to  pronounce  some  benediction  upon  them  and  yet, 
for  all  his  statecraft,  could  not  command  the  perfect  phrase. 
Then  he  found  it  in  the  eternal  simplicity  of  three  words 
that  cannot  be  bettered. 

"God  bless  you,"  he  said,  and  Hercules  and  Clarenda 
bowed  their  heads  to  the  best  and  briefest  of  all  impreca- 
tions. When  the  pair  raised  their  heads  again  Hercules 
found  that  my  lord  was  considering  him  with  a  changed 


SENTENCE  333 

countenance  in  which  playfulness  struggled  with  sternness 
for  supremacy. 

"Here  we  have  been  changing  pleasant  speech,"  he  said, 
"but  all  our  speech  cannot  have  the  same  pleasant  savour. 
Man  and  maid,  you  must  accompany  me  with  speed  to 
Exeter  where  I  know  that  her  Majesty  will  have  a  word  or 
two  to  say  to  the  pair  of  you." 


CHAPTER   XLIV 

SOVEREIGN   AND  SUBJECT 

JOCK  HOLIDAY  opened  the  door  of  a  room  in  the 
tJ  Bishop's  Palace  at  Exeter  and  gave  Master  Flood  a 
pat  with  his  hand.  It  was  intended  for  an  encouraging  pat 
on  the  shoulder,  but  because  Holiday  was  a  little  man  and 
Master  Flood  a  big  man  it  alighted  somewhere  about  the 
small  of  Hercules'  back.  Then  Holiday  pulled  the  door 
wide  open  and  announced : 

"Master  Hercules  Flood." 

Hercules  passed  through  the  opening  and  the  door  closed 
between  him  and  Holiday.  The  discreetly  curtained  room 
was  occupied  by  one  woman  and  that  woman  was  the 
Queen.  If  Hercules  had  not  known  to  whose  presence  he 
was  being  conducted  he  should  have  recognised  her  at  once, 
in  spite  of  her  lack  of  likeness  to  Philemon's  picture.  It 
was  a  good  many  years  since  he  last  saw  her — at  which 
epoch  he  had  indeed  found  her  no  beauty — and  the  fingers 
of  Time,  aided  by  her  own  fingers,  had  not  improved  her 
Majesty  in  the  interval.  The  added  years  meant  added 
weight  of  paint,  added  wealth  of  wig,  added  waggishness 
of  carriage,  added  grisliness  of  false  girlhood,  added  trag- 
edy of  assertive  hilarity.  But  she  was  very  much  Elizabeth 
the  Queen,  and  for  all  her  changes,  she  impressed  Hercules 
more  than  on  the  former  meeting,  because  he  had  seen  more 
of  the  world  and  of  womankind  since,  and  was  wiser. 

The  moment  he  entered  the  room  the  Queen  broke  into  a 
shrill  little  cackling  laugh. 

"By  God!"  she  cried,  "it  is  more  than  a  month  of  Sun- 
days since  we  last  encountered,  Master  Flood,  but  I  re- 
member you  as  well  as  if  it  were  yesterday.  Do  you  remem- 
ber me?" 

Hercules  bowed  gravely,  spoke  gravely. 

"No  one  who  has  seen  your  Majesty  once  could  ever 
334 


SOVEREIGN  AND  SUBJECT  335 

forget  you,  however  long  the  period  between  his  fortunes." 

He  spoke  with  veracity,  though  he  was  far  from  mean- 
ing what  a  courtier  would  have  wished  the  Queen  to  under- 
stand. But  the  Queen  took  the  speech  as  a  courtier's  speech 
and  allowed  herself  to  be  pleased. 

"I  fear  you  are  a  man  of  naught,  Master  Flood,"  she 
protested,  with  a  ghastly  smile,  "and  I  have  a  very  large 
and  tough  crow  to  pluck  with  you.  Nevertheless,  before 
we  come  to  the  eating,  you  have  permission  to  kiss  my 
hand." 

Hercules  shortened  the  distance  between  him  and  his 
sovereign  in  a  single  stride,  dropped  on  one  knee  and 
respectfully  took  command  of  the  Queen's  proffered  fin- 
gers. Though  her  hands  still  held  their  beauty  of  shape,  the 
fingers  were  as  yellow  as  the  toes  of  a  turkey  and  the  bril- 
liance of  the  rings  they  carried  did  but  emphasize  their  hue, 
but  Hercules  made  no  bones  of  paying  them  a  right  hearty 
salutation  which  commended  him  to  the  Queen. 

"I  fear  you  are  a  saucy  fellow,  Captain  Flood,"  she  said 
with  a  pleased  light  in  her  untired  eyes.  "What  have  you 
to  say  for  yourself?" 

"In  what  regard,  may  it  please  your  Majesty?"  Hercules 
questioned,  as  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  stood  in  an  attitude 
of  respectful  attention  before  the  Queen.  Elizabeth 
laughed  at  him. 

"In  what  regard?"  she  drolled.  "Listen  to  the  rogue. 
Of  course  I  have  sent  for  you  on  no  better  business  than 
to  know  the  price  of  peacocks  in  the  Indies  or  some  such 
trifle.  Come,  you  naughty  rascal,  what  have  you  to  say 
for  yourself  in  this  business  of  carrying  off  my  woman?" 

There  was  menace  in  the  Queen's  voice,  as  behoved,  but 
her  smiling  eyes  belied  the  threat.  Hercules  answered 
simply. 

"I  wanted  her  for  my  wife." 

The  Queen  gave  a  queer  croak  of  laughter. 

"No  more  than  so.  You  see  a  maid  that  takes  your  fancy 
and  you  think  there  is  nothing  other  to  do  than  to  pick  her 
up  and  put  her  in  your  pocket.  God-a-mercy,  Master  Flood, 
what  would  come  to  the  country  if  all  its  sons  were  like 
you  ?" 

"JEnglajjd  is  well  peopled,"  Hercules  answered  compos- 


336  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

edly,  "but  she  is  never  the  worse  off  for  men  that  know  their 
own  mind." 

The  Queen  grinned  again.  Hercules  found  something 
tigerish  in  her,  and  she  found  him  leonine. 

"And  for  women  that  know  their  own  mind,"  he  con- 
tinued. "I  have  ever  striven  to  steer  my  course  by  the 
star  of  your  Majesty's  example." 

"Now  by  my  soul,"  cried  the  Queen  with  a  great  show  of 
anger — but  she  was  not  angry — "this  is  beyond  all  patience. 
What  have  I  ever  done  to  justify  salt-water  jacks  in  kid- 
napping of  poor  maids?" 

"What  I  meant,  Madam  Queen,"  replied  Hercules,  re- 
spectfully insistent,  "was  this,  that  when  after  due  delibera- 
tion you  had  made  up  your  royal  mind  to  a  certain  course 
of  action,  you  followed  that  course  out  to  the  end  without 
overdue  regard  for  such  trifles  as  would  stay  smaller 
spirits." 

"Well  argued,  master  pirate,"  retorted  Elizabeth,  "but 
there  is  this  flaw  in  your  argument.  I  always  succeed  in 
my  enterprises." 

"And  have  I  not  succeeded?"  Hercules  questioned  sim- 
ply. "I  set  out  to  win  the  hand  of  this  maid  and  I  have 
won  it." 

"You  came  mighty  nigh  to  losing  it,"  the  Queen  said, 
"from  all  that  I  hear." 

"Every  man  that  risks  an  adventure,"  said  Hercules, 
"has  the  chance  of  losing  it.  Whatever  the  odds  in  his 
favour,  whatever  his  advantages,  it  is  always  a  toss-up. 
The  only  thing  that  is  worth  a  whistle  is  the  finish.  Well, 
if  your  Majesty  will  permit  me  the  liberty,  I  whistle." 

And  therewithal  Master  Hercules  Flood  made  so  bold  as 
to  whistle  a  few  bars  of  that  mad  Armada  song  which  all 
London  and  all  England  was  singing,  whistling,  shrieking, 
screeching,  shouting,  in  those  brave  days  when  her  Majesty 
and  her  Majesty's  very  humble  subjects  were  a  certain  num- 
ber of  years  the  younger.  The  hot  brown  eyes  were,  for  a 
moment,  glassed  with  tears. 

"By  the  Mass,"  cried  Elizabeth — it  pleased  her  sometimes 
to  be  very  Catholic  in  her  ejaculations — "you  speak  well, 
but  you  whistle  better  than  you  speak.  A  little  more  and 
I  should  have  asked  you  to  hand  me  down  the  hall  in  a 


SOVEREIGN  AND  SUBJECT  337 

mad-cap  dance.  There  is  much  to  be  said  for  you,  Master 
Flood." 

The  brown  eyes  ogled;  the  painted  face  leered;  the 
bewigged  head  vacillated  in  an  exaggeration  of  coquetry. 
Hercules  understanding  that  there  was  a  call  upon  his 
gallantry,  declined  to  understand. 

"Nobody  can  say  more  for  me,"  he  answered  soberly, 
"than  I  can  say  for  myself.  For  whatever  else  I  may  be 
ignorant  of,  I  do  know  myself,  and  what  I  purpose  to 
achieve  and  what  I  am  powerful  to  achieve.  In  the  spring 
of  my  days  I  set  out  to  make  a  fortune  and  I  made  it. 
In  the  prime  of  my  life  I  set  out  to  win  a  wife  and  I  won 
her.  It  is  quite  an  honourable  record." 

Elizabeth  laughed  to  the  man's  gallant  carriage,  at  the 
shrewdness  of  his  simplicity. 

"Vastly  well,"  she  protested,  "vastly  well.  You  carry 
yourself  as  if  all  you  had  to  do  in  the  world  was  to  pick 
a  maid-peach  from  the  wall  and  swallow  her,  just  because 
you  had  a  mind  to  the  fruit.  Let  me  tell  you,  master  buc- 
caneer, that  such  blustering  business  sees  no  favour  in  Eng- 
land and  that  if  I  had  a  mind  for  it,  I  could  have  your 
head." 

"Your  Majesty  already  has  my  heart,"  Hercules  pro- 
tested, "so  the  leave  of  me  is  of  little  consequence." 

He  began  to  believe,  as  he  spoke,  that  he  had  in  him  the 
possibilities  of  a  courtier  and  he  smiled  at  the  supposition. 
The  Queen  grinned. 

"By  God,"  she  averred,  "for  every  word  I  say  you  have 
a  word  to  answer  me.  So  I  think  I  will  not  chop  logic 
with  you  any  longer  but  just  in  all  brevity  deliver  my 
sentence." 

She  tightened  her  lips  and  for  a  moment  the  chords  of 
the  heart  of  Hercules  tightened,  for  he  felt  that  this  was 
indeed  a  royal  cat  and  he,  for  all  his  inches,  no  more  than 
a  mouse.  Who,  in  all  England,  could  tell  what  she  meant 
behind  her  frown,  behind  her  smile.  But  this  time  it  seemed 
that  her  smile  carried  its  face  value. 

"If  I  ask  for  your  sword,"  she  said,  "it  is  not  to  deal 
you  the  death,  but  to  give  you  the  accolade  which  you  have 
deserved  from  the  past  and  shall  yet  merit  in  the  future." 

She  pointed,  as  she  spoke,  with  so  unmistakable  a  gesture 


338  IN  SPACIOUS  TIMES 

at  the  sword  which  hung  by  Hercules'  side  that  he  had 
no  choice  but  to  pluck  it  forth  and  hand  it  by  the  blade 
to  the  Queen. 

"We  have  no  witnesses,"  said  Elizabeth,  as  she  grasped 
the  blade  by  its  hilt,  "but  I  shall  remember  and  your  patent 
shall  be  duly  made  out  to  you.  Kneel,  Master  Flood."  Her- 
cules knelt  and  the  sword  tapped  his  shoulder.  "Arise,  Sir 
Hercules  Flood."  Hercules  rose.  "And  now,  Sir  Hercules, 
go  to  your  maid  and  wed  her  and  taste  your  moon  of  honey, 
but,  by  my  father's  beard,  it  shall  be  no  more  than  a  month, 
for  you  have  offended,  and  you  have  to  purge  your  offence, 
and  I  have  work  for  you  with  the  Spaniards  which,  if  you 
accomplish  it,  shall  win  your  forgiveness." 

The  Queen  again  tendered  him  the  jewelled  fingers,  in 
signal  of  dismissal.  Hercules  dropped  on  one  knee  and 
saluted  them. 

"God  save  your  Majesty,"  he  said,  as  he  rose,  "and  God 
save  me  to  serve  you  as  you  should  be  served." 

He  took  his  leave  and  as  he  passed  through  the  ante- 
chamber he  gratified  Jock  Holiday  with  the  gift  of  a  com- 
fortable purse. 

When  he  had  gone  the  Queen  looked  into  a  mirror  and 
saw  there  her  image,  not  indeed  as  it  seemed,  but  as  she 
wished  it  to  seem. 

"If  things  had  been  otherwise,"  she  murmured,  "there 
goes  a  man  who  would  have  made  a  proper  mate  for  me." 

But  things  were  not  otherwise,  and  Hercules  was  hasten- 
ing to  his  Clarenda. 


THE  END 


A    000  031  698    4 


